It Might As Well Be Raining Fire
by Air Guitar Pixie
Summary: When Dean woke up the next morning, he couldn't remember anything. Well, that wasn't strictly true. He could walk and make sarcastic remarks and shovel food into his mouth like there was no tomorrow (ha, no tomorrow, hilarious). But ask him anything about how he had spent the first thirty-two years of his life and yeah, nothing. Set after an AU season 5 ending. Full summary inside!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: _Well, my first multi-chapter fic on this account. Hooray! I have a good bit of this fic written already, so hopefully I can update it twice a week or so. The chapters will be rather short, I'm afraid. Takes place after an alternate season 5 ending (which will be explained in detail later in the story). Established Destiel. Sort of. Anyways, enjoy! -Jaq_

**Summary:**

**After an alternate Season 5 ending where Dean instead of Sam said "yes," Dean's lost his memory, including his brother and his angel. Sam visits him every day, of course, but neither he or Castiel can seem to do anything about it. Established Destiel (one-sided, at first, because Dean doesn't remember stuff). I just rated this T because I'm paranoid, but there's a bit of language and there's some semi graphic violence in the later chapters)**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own the TV show Supernatural. Or any of the characters. I'm not making any money off of this work and I am writing it purely for fan-based fun. **

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Sam rapped on the hospital room door. Three times. Quick. Professional. "Dean Forbach?"

A man clad in the bluish- green of hospital garb turned around to face Sam, eyebrows raised.

"Have...have I seen you before?"

Biting back his initial response of _yeah, almost every day of your life, remember_, Sam answered, "No, I don't think so." Swallowing, he blinked several times before composing himself and pulling out an FBI badge. "I'm with the FBI," he said, unnecessarily. Gesturing to Castiel, he added, "This is my partner. I'm Agent... Smyth-Samuel Smyth," he finished, having forgotten for a second what the fake badge listed his name as.

"Well, _Agent, _what are you bothering me for? I'm trying to recover from a traumatic incident." Dean folded his arms across his chest in a painfully familiar gesture.

Sam leaned against the door frame. "Yes, I'm sorry, but that's what I've come to talk to you about. So...are you sure you remember nothing?"

"Yep." Dean tapped his head, and then winced. "Empty as a...God, I don't know. I can't think straight. The hospital's searching for my next of kin so I can find out who I am. It's pretty hard going, though, since I don't seem to be on record...anywhere."

"That's...great." Cursing himself for not being able to think of anything better to say to his brother, Sam cleared his throat and returned his blank notepad to his pocket. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Forbach."

Once outside the room, Sam turned to his companion his voice low and urgent. "Cas, when is he going to get better?"

Cas had remained silent throughout the entire interview with Dean, just as he had yesterday and the day before that. "It depends. He could be back to normal tomorrow, or he could stay this way forever. I do not know," he replied. His face was expressionless; he looked like he was trying to suppress whatever human emotions he was feeling.

"Dammit." Sam and Cas had visited Dean in this hospital every day for two and a half weeks, and each time, all he had remembered was waking up in the hospital that morning. It was as if someone was wiping his mind.

"He did stop the end of the world."

Sam glared at the man before him. "Michael stopped it. My brother was a walking meatsuit that got mucked up and tossed aside like- like a dirty shirt."

Cas' gaze was weak but steady. "Michael did the best he could, but his presence was overwhelming. Dean is trapped in his mind. It could not have been foreseen."

"He doesn't even_ remember_ me. I had to watch my brother as a shell and a weapon and now he doesn't even _remember _my _name_." Sam clenched his fist.

"It is... unfortunate."

"What am I supposed to do? He can't remember anything! If I went in there again it would be like the first time to him."

Cas looked away. As was happening more and more often lately, he was utterly without answers to the questions heaven and hell were tossing before them.

•••

Sam didn't remember the end of the war in a ton of detail, just that Michael-in-Dean's-body had sort of exploded, Lucifer had died or something (Sam felt like he should probably find out more about what exactly had happened there when he had a chance), and Dean/Michael had vanished only to reappear outside the hospital. Michael had left, and Dean was left unconscious on the steps. Sam had explained as little as he could to the hospital staff, barely managing to keep the story he told somewhat rational. Cas had been off fighting somewhere, and only learned of the event afterwards.

When Dean had woken up the next morning, he couldn't remember anything. Well, that wasn't strictly true. He could walk and make sarcastic remarks and shovel food into his mouth like there was no tomorrow (ha ha, no tomorrow, really funny). But ask him anything about how he had spent the first thirty-two years of his life and yeah, nothing. Castiel had been unable to do anything to help.

Sam had explained that he was Dean's brother and that they travelled across the country with this other guy named Cas, and after a skeptical pause, Dean had smiled, nodded, looked relieved to have something with which to start filling in the blanks. But then, the next morning, it was all gone.

This had happened every day for two weeks. Sam had been praying MICHAEL YOU BROKE MY BROTHER WITH YOUR FRIGGIN HOLY WAR MOJO YOU BETTER COME FIX HIM RIGHT NOW OR I'M GONNA STORM HEAVEN MYSELF TO BRING YOU DOWN HERE. And more polite variations. But apparently Michael was too busy rebuilding heaven or whatever to come down, and Sam wasn't quite sure how to make good on his promise.

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_I'm going to update this in a couple days, maybe sooner. Thanks for reading...please review! _


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: _I'm sorry I haven't updated this! I do have a lot of it written, though, so hopefully I can update it again tomorrow or the next day._

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_Sam had explained that he was Dean's brother and that they travelled across the country with this other guy named Cas, and after a skeptical pause, Dean had smiled, nodded, looked relieved to have something with which to start filling in the blanks. But then, the next morning, it was all gone._

_This had happened every day for two weeks. Sam had been praying MICHAEL YOU BROKE MY BROTHER WITH YOUR FRIGGIN HOLY WAR MOJO YOU BETTER COME FIX HIM RIGHT NOW OR I'M GONNA STORM HEAVEN MYSELF TO BRING YOU DOWN HERE. And more polite variations. But apparently Michael was too busy rebuilding heaven or whatever to come down, and Sam wasn't quite sure how to make good on his promise._

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Chapter 2

The next day, Sam visited again after waking up and eating breakfast. Since the first visit, he had given up telling Dean he was his brother, instead pretending to be FBI. It was less painful than saying, "I'm your brother," and Dean cocking his head to one side and going, "Are you _sure_?"

He entered the room and was immediately met with a fist. Sam stumbled back, raising his hands. "Woah, woah, Dean-"

"Who the hell are you? Are you a demon?" Dean growled.

"No, I'm not." Slowly, Sam pulled out a flask of holy water. He handed it to his brother, who promptly splashed it in his face. Grunting in apparent satisfaction, he took a step back.

Sam swallowed. Well, this was...bittersweet. "I'm your brother. You really don't remember me?" he asked, knowing and yet dreading the answer.

"No." Dean snickered and blinked.

Turning away again, Sam glanced up. Feeling kind of awkward, he shouted, "Cas!" He stuck his hands in his pockets.

Nothing happened. Dean gave him a look that said "what the _hell_?".

"Who's Cas?" Dean ventured, sounding almost afraid of the answer. He sat down on the bed, his shell of nonchalance cracking at last.

Sam swallowed hard at the picture he saw, of his brother so down-to-earth and clearly uncomfortable. "He's, uh, he's an angel. You were kind of in love with him?" he said at last, his voice cracking slightly. He didn't even dare to think of what this all might be like for Cas, but he imagined the angel was feeling quite as bad if not worse than himself.

"I was _what_?" Dean's eyebrows shot up again, and his face tightened. Sam looked down.

"Never- nevermind. Cas!" he shouted again, praying the angel would show himself.

"Hello."

Sam jumped. Gritting his teeth, he muttered, "I'll never get used to this. Uh, Dean remembers some stuff." Internally, he cursed himself. Dean remembered some stuff, but not all. Not nearly all.

Cas peered intensely at Dean, his eyes boring into the other man's. "That is good. What do you remember?"

"What the _hell_?" Dean asked, recoiling slightly from the intensity and closeness of Cas' gaze.

"You're starting to remember. That is good," Cas repeated slowly.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Good," he said sarcastically. "Yeah. I remember a bunch of demons and a really hot chick who killed- someone. That's it. I don't even know how long I've been locked up in this place."

"Until you regain full use of your memory, it is best that you stay here," replied Cas serenely.

"How do I have any proof you are what you say you are, then? That you're some sort of angel and you're a brother I don't remember having?" Dean challenged, standing back up again.

"I'll be right back," Sam said suddenly, dashing out.

"What the hell?" Dean asked again, looking more confused than ever.

Cas stood, staring at Dean with a sad expression on his face. He moved as if to step closer, but changed his mind at the last second, exhaling audably.

Dean nodded at Cas. "So if you're an angel, do you have some sort of _power_?" He sounded hopeful. "Something that could maybe- heal me?"

Cas nodded. "To some extent. Sadly...I cannot. I have tried. I am sorry," he said, looking down. His eyes looked tired, and he was staring with less than his usual intensity.

Dean turned his head, nodding slightly. His face was a mask of disappointment. Sighing, he remained in silence. Cas continued to look at him.

After almost five minutes of this, Sam returned, running back into the room with a wild, hopeful look in his eyes.

"Here, look," he said, panting slightly and handing over a weather-beaten journal.

"What is this?" Dean asked, taking it from him gingerly.

"Dad's journal. It's got proof of stuff and-" he gesticulated in a manner that was both unclear and unhelpful- "stuff. Just read it. Now that you've started to remember...maybe…" he sighed. "Maybe this can help you remember more." The end came out sounding half like a question, like Sam was afraid to even hope.

Dean took the book gingerly. "Yeah. Maybe." Exhaling deeply, he changed the subject. "So how long have I been out?"

Sam glanced at Cas. "About two weeks," he said. "And...you haven't remembered me at all, not even day-to-day."

Dean frowned. "Then there isn't any proof that I'll remember you tomorrow, either."

"No," Sam admitted dully.

Dean cursed.

"But you might," Sam added. "You remembered a little bit today..."

Dean shrugged, a sarcastic look on his face.

Sam sighed. "I'll be back tomorrow, regardless."

"You do that," Dean said tonelessly.

Sam nodded, taking it as his cue to leave, which he did. Cas remained for several more minutes, sitting quietly in a chair in the corner.

Driving home, Sam tried and failed not to get his hopes up about Dean. It was no use; it was the only thing he could think about. He sighed and entered the motel. Not even bothering to take his clothes off, he crawled into bed, trying to sleep, but it was hours before he finally drifted off.

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_I hope you still like it! Also: Please, please review? I can see the views and I know people are reading this...but it would be really nice to see a review! It takes about a minute and makes me very happy and stuff so you should probably click that button please :)_

_-Jaq_


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: _Okay, I know I promised to update yesterday. I'm sorry. But here's a nice, longish chapter. Thank you soooo much to everyone who followed, favorited, and especially reviewed! Enjoy this bit! -Jaq_

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_"You haven't remembered me at all, not even day-to-day." _

_Dean frowned. "Then there isn't any proof that I'll remember you tomorrow, either."_

_"No," Sam admitted dully. Dean cursed._

_"But you might," Sam added. "You remembered a little bit today..."_

_Dean shrugged, a sarcastic look on his face._

_Sam sighed. "I'll be back tomorrow, regardless."_

_"__You do that," Dean said tonelessly._

* * *

But the next day, Dean didn't remember. It was the same old story- Sam entered hopefully, only to find his hopes bashed as Dean looked at him with that same unknowing look. Sam sighed and left early-really, he didn't know why he still hoped so much every time.

After a few awkward minutes of standing staring at his brother (although, really, who _was_ Dean without his memories?), Sam walked back dejectedly. He bought a protein bar from a vending machine in the lobby. Chewing it slowly, he started walking to the door.

"Sam!"

He turned to see the receptionist giving him another pitying look.

Raising his eyebrows, "Yeah, Jeanne?"

"I'm really sorry about your brother."

He nodded. "Yeah."

Was she trying to _flirt_ with him? Yeah, she was pretty, but...

"Sam. Listen. I'm trying to help you out here, stop spacing out."

"Sorry, what?"

"You aren't safe, Sam. And neither is your brother, even though he can't remember anything," she said in a low, urgent tone.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you do."

"You mean you're..."

"A hunter. Yes. You and your brother are rather famous. I'm not."

"What do you know that we don't?"

"A great deal, but not here. Chamoix Road, 672. Be there at ten."

Another person approached, and she switched topics seamlessly. "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't carry Pepsi." Turning to the next person, she asked, "how can I help you?"

Sam walked back to the car slowly, thinking. Was it a trap? It was probably a trap. He decided to go anyways.

At nine-thirty, Sam was ready. He had a knife in his belt, a dirk in his shoe, and twenty six little restaurant packets of salt stuffed in his inside jacket pocket. He didn't _think_ Jeanette was evil, but still. It pays to be prepared.

Chamoix Road was fairly near him, and he arrived just before five o'clock.

He knocked on the door. It was painted black, and there were more locks than the usual door.

"Come in," called Jeanette.

He did so, noting the devil's trap on the ceiling in the front entrance.

"So what is it that you couldn't tell me at the hospital?"

Jeanette walked in. She was small, and lithe, pretty but with a piercing look in her eyes. Her short black hair framed her face.

"I don't think they've found you yet, but I do know there's a pretty big group of demons in Maine looking for you," she began.

"Well, we're in New Hampshire, so we should be okay for now, until Dean gets better."

"And how long could that take?"

"We...don't know," Sam admitted

"Exactly." She stood up and brought back a map. "I've tracked them from Quebec. They're definitely after you two. You defeated Lucifer in Concord, and that threw them off for a while. But I'm like eighty percent sure they're coming here."

"We can take them, I'm sure."

"Sam. There's almost sixty of them. I know of at least four hunters who've died by their hands. Don' t let yourself be the fifth."

"And you?" Sam asked.

She smiled lightly. "What do you think I'm doing here? I'm going to help you, of course."

"That's, uh. That's great."

"Do you want tea?"

"Sure?" Sam replied, slightly confused.

Jeanette left, presumably to get tea. Sam looked around. The room was sparse, with thr most exciting piece of furniture being a large bookshelf. There were some plates hanging up on the walls, and he felt an overwhelming feeling of homesickness wash over him, which was stupid. He didn't need a home when he had Dean and the car. If he still had Dean.

Jeanette returned with tea.

"So...do you live here?"

"This was my mother's house. I inherited it, and it's quite convinient."

"I'm sorry about your mother."

"Oh, don't be. She lived an amazing life, and died at sixty two a couple years ago. Natural causes," she added when Sam opened his mouth.

"This is really good tea."

"Thanks."

"So you travel alone?"

"Mainly. Sometimes I work with my younger brother, but he's distant, and we don't always get along. He's getting married next year, met the man of his dreams in Illinois."

Sam nodded. "So you're...unattatched."

She bobbed her head. "Not that- I mean, I'm not interested, sorry? I don't get into relationships. Ever."

Face reddening slightly, Sam hastily assured her that that was not what he meant.

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow then, eight o'clock." She picked up the teacups and plates and replaced them im the kitchen.

Sam stood up, more than two feet taller than Jeanette. "I'll see you around."

"Same to you."

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_So? Thoughts? Please review-reviews are like chocolate and fluffy blankets to me. What do you want to/think will happen next? Click that button! I'll try to update this Wednesday. -Jaq_


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: _Thank you so much to everyone who followed/favorited/reviewed! Your comments really mean a lot. Here's the next bit (sorry for all the dialogue), please enjoy!-Jaq_

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_Sam__stood up, more than a foot taller than Jeanette. "I'll see you around."_

_"Same to you."_

* * *

Leaving, Sam's brow creased with worry. He could take his fair share of demons, sure. But sixty? That was a lot, even for him. Maybe Dean would miraculously heal and they could fight them together. Maybe not.

"So you've heard about the threat."

Sam swerved into the left lane, cursing vehemently. "Cas, don't _do_ that!"

"I am sorry."

"And yeah, I heard. Why didn't you show today?"

"I have been...busy."

"Yeah." Sam rolled his eyes. "So can we trust this Jeanette?"

"I..think so." Cas didn't sound absolutely sure, but Sam figured it would have to do.

"Great."

They drove the rest of the way back to the run-down sleazy motel in silence. Sam parked the car, double-checked the lock ("Dean will kill me if anything happens to his precious baby"), and checked into his room.

He tried to do a little research on his laptop, but his lack of sleep over the past few days was catching up with him and, within minutes, he was fast asleep.

The next morning his alarm rang at seven. Blearily opening his eyes, he got dressed and ate an omelet. Seven forty five. He drove to the hospital.

Checking in with Jeanette, he once again walked down the hallway to room 309. Cautiously, he opened the door.

Dean was inside, hunched over the journal.

"...Dean?"

"Which one are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not stupid. I can't remember anything, and I wake up in a hospital with a journal. So are you a good guy or a bad guy?"

"Um, good guy, I think. I'm Sam."

"Right. My little brother."

"Yeah."

"So...fill me in."

"We, uh, you, stopped the apocalypse. And now we're being hunted by about sixty demons. I think."

"Great," said Dean sarcastically.

Sam shrugged. "We've teamed up with the receptionist."

"So we've got an amnesiac, my little brother, and a receptionist. Anyone else?"

"There's Cas, maybe."

"Cas?"

Cas appeared. "I am Castiel."

"Cas is an angel."

Dean nodded, trying very hard to take in everything.

Cas turned to Sam. "He's improving."

"Will he be better by the time the demons catch up with us, though?"

Cas thought about it for a second. "Most likely not."

"You know 'he' is sitting right here, right?" Dean said loudly.

"Sorry," Sam called.

Dean muttered to himself.

Sam sighed. This wasn't going very well.

He left, walking half-dejectedly out. Jeanette was sitting at her desk, looking stressed.

"Sam," she hissed, beckoning him over. Her face was drawn, but her eyes were sharp as ever. Walking over, Sam noticed a paperweight filled with salt. It was a clever way to sneak a large amount in, he had to admit.

"Yeah?" he asked, wondering what it could be that she had to tell him and worrying what it probably was.

She took a deep breath, leaning in closer. "Listen. I'm pretty sure they're close. They don't know where we are yet. But...be careful."

"They...as in..." Sam knew, but he wanted to make sure.

"Yes. Now go. My guess is they'll catch up tomorrow or the next day. How is Dean?" she asked worriedly.

"He's..." Sam looked down. "He hasn't shown any improvement. It's like someone is wiping his memory every night. He is remembering a little bit, but...not a lot. And it never lasts."

Jeanette swore, then looked around as if she was afraid someone was listening. It didn't appear so, so she spoke again, quickly and quietly. "He /has/ to remember. He isn't safe as long as he can't remember. What if they got him, convinced him he was on their side?" She sounded as though she had put a great deal of thought into what she had said. Sam just nodded, having thought of that possibility and worse.

Walking out, he noticed a vending machine. In his haste to get to the hospital, he had forgotten breakfast (he hadn't been all that hungry anyways, and running late). They didn't sell particularly healthy food for a hospital, and Sam shrugged and bought a pop tart to eat at the motel.

Sam hated driving the Impala. It just felt...wrong, somehow, without Dean. The steering wheel was worn where his brother used it, hands slightly above where Sam put his. If one thing could be said, however, Sam had kept the car in spotless condition. He washed it until it shone, and got a nearby mechanic to change the tire that was always leaking. If-/when/- Dean regained full use of his memory, he wouldn't be able to complain about his car.

Back at the motel, Sam sighed and opened the pop tart. He ate the pop tart, chewing slowly. Sam didn't really like pop tarts, they were altogether too sweet for his preference.

He was just getting out his laptop to try for the umpteenth time to find some sort of lore on what was happening to his brother when the door to the room was forced open. Sam grabbed a knife and turned to face the intruders, pop tart crumbs spilling down his shirt.

The young blonde woman at the door cocked her head and shot her arm out. Sam was flung back against the wall, his knife twisting out of his grip in the process. His chest felt like someone was standing on it, and he fought for breath. The devil's trap he had chalked in on the floor- but it had a smudge on it, preventing it from being any use. Sam cursed.

The woman's eyes blinked to black and she smiled grotesquely. "Hello, Sammy."

Then his head snapped back, hard, and the lights went out.

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_Thanks for sticking with me! Any constructive criticism is welcome, as this chapter was un-beta'd (my beta was on a trip) (she doesn't write fanfic but she sometimes helps me edit mine). So...review? Thanks!_


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: _Thank you all so much for the feedback through reviews and PM's! I really hope you continue to stick with and enjoy this story. Here's the next bit-poor Dean's finally starting to get his memory back...that's a good thing, right? Enjoy! -Jaq_

* * *

_The woman's eyes blinked to black and she smiled grotesquely. "Hello, Sammy."_

_Then his head snapped back, hard, and the lights went out._

* * *

Dean sat up in his hospital bed, panting and reaching for a knife that was not there. He had to get out. He had to get out of this place. He grabbed the journal and tucked it inside his shirt.

Walking over to the door, he hesitantly checked the lock. Locked. He swore. There weren't any coat hangers or anything he could use as a lockpick.

He didn't remember it all- not yet. Just bits and pieces- small, random bits and pieces, yes, but all the same.

Scrabbling uselessly against the door, Dean's heart raced. He was /finally/ starting to remember. "Hello!" he shouted.

Nothing. "Help!" still, nothing.

After about five minutes, the door was opened by a (very attractive) young Asian woman with short black hair and a wiry build. "These walls are soundproof. Shut up. Come on, if you're finally remembering then we've got to get out of here. I'm Jeanette, by the way."

Dean wasted no time in getting out, unsure but not questioning the strange woman leading him out of the building. Soon, they were racing twenty miles over the speed limit in Jeanette's litte blue Volkswagen Rabbit.

They arrived at a small house about six minutes later.

"Where are we?" Dean asked, confused and wary. Sure, he didn't remember it all, yet, but it was flooding back, filling the gaps nicely, and he didn't remember a Jeanette at all.

"My house. Quick, get inside," she hissed, shutting the car door quietly and producing a key.

Dean stepped up to the front door, but as he did so, Jeanette grimaced. "I'm sorry, Dean," she whispered, taking out a clevery concealed syringe from her jacket. Dean turned around quickly, but there was nothing he could do as Jeanette plunged it into his neck. Dean fell into Jeanette's waiting arms, and then his vision faded to black.

•••

When Sam came to, he was tied to a chair. His head hurt badly, and he could feel something-blood- that had trickld down his face and dried there. It was annoyingly itchy.

He blinked, trying to clear his head. He was alone, for now. "Cas?" he whispered, feeling kind of ridiculous but hoping all the same that the angel would come and free him.

A hand gently placed itself over Sam's mouth, muffling his yelp.

"Sam. I figured it out," whispered Cas urgently. "Dean can't remember. It isn't an accident, it's purposeful. Do you understand? /We can't let him remember./"

"Why?!" Sam hissed, "you want him to remember as much as I do! He doesn't even remember us, he doesn't know anything-"

But the door opened, spilling light into the room, and Castiel blinked out.

Jeanette stood in the doorway. "Sam. I thought you'd be a little harder to catch!"

Sam glared at her, his mind grasping, trying to comprehend. He opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say. "I-I _trusted_ you," he said (thickly, because of a split lip).

"I know you did. That was kind of the point," she admitted.

"What do you want me for?" Sam asked, spitting out the words.

She smiled, a glint of madness shining in her eyes. "Leverage, Sammy. I'm so sorry. But you're my leverage," she whispered, not sounding sorry at all.

Sam strained uselessly against the bonds, a very uneasy feeling rising in his stomach. "You- you aren't a demon, though," he said at last.

"No, I'm not. I wasn't lying completely before. I did use to be a hunter. I was, in fact, a very good one. Sadly, I didn't realize my true potential. You see, I was like you, but I wasn't as weak or stupid as you." She walked over to the chair, circling it. "This thing..._hunting..._killed my entire family. And I want-no. I need to have revenge, Sammy."

"Stop calling me that," Sam said through gritted teeth.

"Sorry. Would you prefer if your brother did? As his final word?" she offered sweetly.

"He doesn't even remember! You can't-" Sam burst out, pleading.

"But I can. Watch me," Jeanette said tonelessly. She turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her and leaving Sam in total darkness.

* * *

_Well? Was it good? Was it horrible? Please review! I hopefully will update again sometime this week. Thanks for sticking with me-feedback is always appreciated, so click that button and review! xx-Jaq_


	6. Chapter 6

A/N _Wow! Thank you so much for all the reviews, follows, and favorites! I'm really happy people are actually reading and enjoying this story :D Anyways, here's this. To answer a few questions- Yes, I changed the location of the apocalypse to Hartford, Connecticut. I'm the authoress. I can do whatever I want. I did it for plot convenience. Here's the next chapter, nice and long! You'll be (hopefully) happy to know that I've officially finished the rough draft of this entire story, and it will be up in segments over the next few weeks. This means I've started _another_ story, so please look out for that in the next week! Okay. Enough from me. Read on! -Jaq_

* * *

_"He doesn't even remember! You can't-" Sam burst out, pleading._

_"But I can. Watch me," Jeanette said tonelessly. She turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her and leaving Sam in total darkness._

* * *

Dean was sitting, tied, on a stiff-backed chair, heart and head pounding.

"Dean..." said a voice, soft and patronizing.

"What the hell do you want?" he shot back loudly.

"You. And I've got you! How convenient." There was a pause. "You made some pretty bad choices. Don't you remember?"

Dean gritted his teeth. "Whatever it is you want from me, you can't make me give it."

"And that's where you're wrong, dear." Jeanette stepped out from behind him. "Your brother is in a very vulnerable position right now, Dean. Be careful or he isn't going to be quite as annoyingly tall. It's cute, how easily one can persuade one of you by using the other." She twirled a long, thin knife by the leather cord on its handle.

Dean swallowed. "Listen, I don't know what you mean. I don't remember anything. Really." But even as he said it, his memory was flooding back.

"Yes, Michael was trying to make things difficult for us, wasn't he? Wiping your memory so that you couldn't give us any information. How clever of him. You would, of course, have periods of time where you would remember certain things, but nothing permanent. That spell Michael cast was powerful.

She smiled, tapping her head. "But you want to know something about the human brain? We never _truly_ forget anything. Sure, memories can be hidden away from their owners, but in the end, given the right trigger, spell, or But that journal that Sammy gave you- I couldn't have triggered your memory better if I tried!" She was disgustingly delighted.

"Now. Let's make sure we don't have any issues. I really don't have the time to waste."

Jeanette disappeared into an adjoining room. Dean heard Sam cry out, and then swear, loudly.

Jeanette walked back to the room Dean was in, smiling and still holding the (now red, and slick with blood) stiletto. "Nothing fatal, of course. But Sammy will be feeling that one for a while."

Dean wanted to strangle her, then and there, but a) he was tied to a chair and b) she had a knife.

Nonetheless, he struggled valiantly at the bonds. "What've you done to him?" he shouted, succeeding at scooting the chair about an inch closer to her. In his head, he was praying- _begging_- Cas to come. _Please, baby. Just get me and Sammy out of here. C'mon._

She smiled again. "You don't need to know. But let me make myself clear: you'll tell me exactly what I want, truthfully, or I promise you that your brother will learn exactly what I am capable of with a stiletto."

"What do you want to know?" he snarled, glaring at her and breathing heavily.

Jeanette smiled. "You were Michael's vessel, Dean. Remember what I said about memory? There's something, in your head, that the angels don't want you to know. So I want to know it."

"Please, you've got to believe me. There isn't anything," Dean said. _Hurry up, Cas!_

"Oh, Dean...it's there, trust me." She nodded patronizingly, like there was something Dean didn't know.

Jeanette's face was inches from Sam's, her pupils dilated and her breath quick.

"I don't want to kill you," she said, wiping her knife on her prisoner's jacket.

"You'd be the first," replied Sam through gritted teeth. Blood saturated his shirt and ran down his torso from a fresh wound in his shoulder, with more pumping out erratically with his heartbeat.

Rolling her eyes, Jeanette touched the incision. "I doubt you'll lose even two liters of blood- you're going to be in a hell of a lot of pain, but I'll make sure you live. Surely the great Sam Winchester has had worse injuries."

Sam made no response. Jeanette leaned back. "Did I ever tell you _why_ I was doing this?"

"Do you make it a habit to tell the people you torture about your ulterior motives?"

Jeanette glared at him. Picking up the knife, she fingered the blade. "Shut your mouth, or I'll shut it for you." Standing up, she grabbed her knife and walked back out, the bun she wore her hair in bobbing in time as she moved.

Dean glanced up as she walked back into the room he was being held in.

"I'm done with this crap," she said flatly. "Tell me what I want to know or I will kill your brother. End of story. And then, I won't have any leverage, that's true, but I'm sure I could find someone else out there you care about. So start talking. How did you and Micheal beat Lucifer without ending the world?"

Dean fidgeted a little in his chair, trying to get to the waistband of his jeans, where there should be a pocketknife. "I don't know, exactly. He wasn't at full strength, I think, without possessing Sam. Why do you care?" Internally, his mind raced. Michael had been surprised at how easily Lucifer had died, he remembered that. There was something, some sort of-not a spell, exactly, but _something_...

"It doesn't matter. Where, exactly, did this happen?" she continued, holding the dagger loosely. Noticing Dean's slight movement, she smiled humorlessly. "I took the liberty of removing your hidden weapons, including the pocketknife in your pants, if you were wondering. I'm not completely dull."

Dean swore. _Dammit, Cas! Where are you?_

"Now, tell me." Suddenly thinking of something, she added, "Oh, and by the way, this whole place is warded against angels, I just finished doing it myself about ten minutes ago. So no...Castiel, I think his name was? Anyway, the location."

So that was why Cas hadn't shown up. Deciding to take a chance, Dean gave Jeanette the information she wanted. After all, what harm could she do with one location? "Just outside of Hartford, in a field. What are you going to do with me once you've got your information?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out, though, if you don't choose to join me, I can wipe your memory and send you and Sam back to the hospital."

"What is this, some kind of red pill/blue pill crap?"

Jeanette shrugged. "I like sci-fi movies as much as the next girl. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go talk to your brother."

The door closed with a bang, and Sam squinted in the darkness. Before his eyes had time to adjust, a light flipped on. Walking over, Jeanette pulled out another chair and sat on it.

Sam stiffened. "Come back to inflict more pain?" he wondered aloud, his teeth gritted.

"Not really." She sighed, pulling her hair out of its bun and letting it cascade down her chest. Sam caught a whiff of strawberry shampoo, not a scent he generally associated with torturers. Actually, if anything, it reminded him of Jess. Not that he wanted to associate the two women with each other, either. Seeing her like this, open and...normal, unnerved him slightly. Jeanette was supposed to be evil, but all he was seeing now was the introverted, petite receptionist that he had first come to know.

"What happened to you?" Sam asked, genuinely confused. "Your story doesn't make any sense, and you don't, either."

"What _happened_ to me?! Sam, you of all people shouldn't be asking that question." Sam raised his eyebrows, clearly not understanding. With another sigh and a flip of her hair, Jeanette continued. "Fine. I'll tell you. My twin brother Jack and I were raised into hunting. When we were fourteen, he and my mother 'got in the way' of some angel/demon fight. They both died slowly and painfully, and I haven't got a good reason to root for either side." She paused, and a glint of the evil Jeanette seeped into her eyes as she pulled her hair back up. "Monsters...they happen. They're part of the natural order, and so are most hunters, and I used to be fine with that. But all this crap, with you and your brother, and a few others, and angels, and demons? Hell no."

She picked up the knife again and stood up, her face clear of any trace of innocence or vulnerability. "I'm _tired_ of this stupid thing, and I'm not stopping until it's _over_," she snarled, punctuating her sentence by stabbing Sam's left thigh. "The two of you have done nothing for the world but stirred up a lot of trouble for the rest of us, and one way or another someone's got to stop you. So no, I'm not above torturing my victims. But at least I don't mess up the whole damn _world_. Shut up, Sam." Abruptly, she stopped ranting, sat back down, and wiped her stiletto off silently.

Slicing through the ropes binding Sam to the chair, she eyed the lacerations on his leg. With a grunt, she pulled him to a standing position. Sam was confused as to her abrupt changes in attitude towards him, but he didn't struggle as she helped him through the door to the other room.

There, she shrugged him off, watching without emotion as he sank to the ground. Dean watched in silent fury.

"I'll make you a deal," Jeanette said flatly to Dean. "I'll let your angel get in and heal Sam if you help me. I got a little...carried away, probably sliced through the femoral artery, and he'll die in about ten minutes from blood loss at this point . It's your choice, pretty boy. So make up your mind. Gonna save your brother and join me," Sam lifted his head, silently imploring Dean not to do so- "or forget this whole thing?"

Dean stared at Sam in shock. "H-how badly is he hurt?" he asked, surprisingly steadily.

"He's lost about a liter and a half of blood. So far. If he isn't helped...well, two and a half liters is about all the human body, even a huge one, can lose before they die. It's your choice. Or, I could wipe your memory and let Sam die. Like you said- red pill, blue pill. Which one is it going to be?" She crossed her arms, cocking an eyebrow and gazing questioningly at Dean.

Dean swore and glanced again at his brother. Sam was looking determinedly at the floor, his jaw clenched. Slowly but surely, a crimson puddle grew under him, and Dean could see his younger brother's arms shaking slightly from the effort it took to keep himself in a semi-upright position. Jeanette had been right- he wouldn't last much longer before he passed out from blood loss, and those wounds would need some serious stitching up before they were anywhere near healing.

"I'll have the red pill, dammit," Dean spat at Jeanette. "One condition. Cas gets here and heals Sam _first_. Then I'll work with you."

Jeanette's face broke into a broad smile. "Of course," she said. "I wouldn't have it any other way." Walking over to the door, she scratched over a sigil and mumbled something in Latin. "Your angel friend can get in, now. But I'm warning you- any funny business and it's nix on the deal. I'll kill Sam before you or your friend can do any damage to myself or Kaylee."

"Kaylee?" Dean questioned.

Jeanette nodded. "I guess you haven't been introduced, have you. Sammy will recognize her. Kaylee!" she called.

Within seconds, an attractive young blonde appeared from around the corner. "Yeah?"

"Kaylee, Dean. Dean, Kaylee," Jeanette motioned with her hands.

"Dean _Winchester_?" Kaylee spat, giving Dean a look of pure, raw hatred.

"The one and only, sweetheart," Dean replied dryly. Dimly, he felt a spark of recognition about Kaylee, but he couldn't place where or when he had seen her.

Sam made a noise of recognition. His face was sweaty, and with immense effort he said, "you brought me here. You- you're a demon."

"That so?" Dean asked, looking at her. "Well then you can kiss my ass, because I'm not working with you."

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual. Jean, what on _earth_ are you thinking? We should kill these- these idiotic _hunters_, preferably slowly and painfully, not work with them!" Kaylee nudged Sam's left leg aside with her foot and looked at Jeanette as if she was crazy.

"Look, I know it seems like a bad idea, but you have to trust me," Jeanette replied.

Kaylee rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest and giving Dean another rage-filled look.

It was then that Cas arrived, appearing next to Dean. He frowned. "I...assume you want me to heal Sam?" he asked finally, looking at Dean tied to his chair with an unreadable expression.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Dean said. He wanted to tell Cas everything, that he had regained his memory in full, but he didn't want Jeanette to know. He was holding few cards as it was.

Cas surveyed the scene. His gaze darkened when he looked at Jeanette and Kaylee, who made an obscene hand gesture at him. Slowly, he walked over to Sam. The young man was healed in seconds, and unsteadily rose to his feet.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked Jeanette, his tone warning.

"Stay out of this. Just because you healed Sam doesn't mean you are in any way a part of this," Jeanette replied. She glanced at Sam, who had walked over to his brother and was cutting the rope with a knife he inexplicably had in his pocket.

"No," Dean spoke up. "You get your ugly little demon 'friend', we get Cas. End of story. I go, he goes. That's the way it's gonna work, or I will do everything in my power to stop you from getting any information." He stood up, rubbing his wrists and glaring at Jeanette.

"Fine. But remember one thing. I'm in charge now."

* * *

_Whew. That was a long chapter and a really annoying one to write. Thank you so much, health class, for informing me of the location of arteries. I'm sure my teacher will be happy to know I used his lesson to write a torture scene :)_

_In addition- thoughts on a genderswap fic? I've got a bit of a fetish for them, but I've never written one...yet..._

_Please review? I know you're reading this...reviews make me happy and want to update sooner...and I like reading them...and yah...So click the button? Please? Compliments, constructive criticism, and everything in between are welcome. Until next time! -Jaq_


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: _Well, hello again! I'm sorry it was such a long time between updates- family stuff happened. But now school is off for me, so I should be able to update a lot more frequently! In addition, I'm going to try and do much better at answering reviews. To answer a guest called Jenna, yes, there was a reference to the movie _The Matrix_ last chapter. I'm glad somebody caught it! Enjoy this chapter. -Jaq_

* * *

_"Fine. But remember one thing. I'm in charge now."_

* * *

Dean nodded, and Cas walked over to him.

Kaylee's eyes traced the floor, looking at something that neither Dean nor Sam could see. As Castiel continued to walk, she tensed. Suddenly, whipping a lighter out, she pounced on the floor. Cas sprung back with a look of alarm, a wide circle suddenly flaring up on the floor. He glared at Jeanette, his voice a deep rumble. "Let me out."

"I don't think so. I can't have you rushing to re-erase Dean's memory, can I? And in case you were wondering, I've got circles of holy oil everywhere. Hopefully the house doesn't catch on fire, because it'll go up like a match, but it is useful, as you can see. Now stand still and don't interfere. Yes, that is a threat. I'm about an inch away from letting Kaylee do what she will with you, but unfortunately that might upset our guests a little too much.

"Now, Dean. Starting from when you first decided to say 'yes' to Michael, tell me everything. Or I will hurt the two beings you love most in the world."

Dean swallowed hard. "I- I couldn't let Sam say yes. If it was going to have to be one of us, better me than him, right? So I, uh, did. Yeah. And then it was like he-Michael, that is, sort of took over, and I was trapped inside my head.

Lucifer, when we caught up to him, was in bad shape vessel-wise- he was burning the poor jerk up from the inside out, and he wasn't as fast or in control as he could have been. There was a fight, but it turned out not to really be much of a fight. I- Michael- won. Then I woke up in a hospital bed and I couldn't remember who I was. That's about it."

Jeanette narrowed her eyes, looking from Cas to Dean. "What else? How did Michael leave?"

Sam looked concernedly at his brother, but he had to admit he was curious.

Dean kept his mouth shut, staring at the ground. Kaylee made a fist, and Sam suddenly grabbed at his throat. Swallowing hard, Dean looked at his brother. "He just...left. Vanished back into Heaven."

Cas was glaring, and even though he was trapped he cut a very frightening figure. "I'm warning you-"

"Oh, don't bother," Kaylee snapped. "You're trapped and you know it, enough with the threats." She walked over to him. "You know, I've always wanted to see this. An angel, trapped, while I walk free." She smiled. "You're pathetic. I think I'll play with you later."

She appeared to notice Sam choking on the ground, and with a roll of her eyes, she let him go. Sam gasped for air, and Dean finally tore his eyes away from his brother, instead giving Kaylee a death glare. She smiled at him, waving her fingers. "Dean...I suppose you don't remember me. You wouldn't. I'm nobody important. You want to die a hero, right? Be remembered." She laughed. "Poor, poor boy."

Meanwhile, Sam was forcibly holding back Dean from rushing at Kaylee. "Dean," he was saying, "Cas is going to be fine. We're all going to be fine."

"And that's where you're wrong, Sammy boy," Kaylee said loudly. Smirking she looked from Dean to Cas. "Do you two _care_ about each other? How cute. I'm definitely going to enjoy this."

Dean clenched his jaw but stopped struggling. Hesitantly, Sam released him.

"So, uh, what's the plan?" Sam asked, looking at each individual briefly before settling his eyes on Jeanette. He wasn't happy about her leadership, or really about anything that was going on at the moment, but he decided that going along with it would prevent anyone from getting hurt.

Jeanette smiled and looked at Sam. "Kill everything," she chirped brightly. "Angels, demons, hunters...kill it all."

Sam swallowed, wishing he hadn't asked. Dean's eyes opened wide, and he took a small step back. "Uh, how, exactly? And are you..._sure_ that this is a good idea?" he replied slowly.

"There has to be some sort of spell. There _has_ to be, I'm sure of it," she breathed. Her eyes glinted with madness, and she glanced quickly around at her companions.

"There isn't," said Cas flatly. Jeanette spun on her heel to glare at him. "Oh? Kaylee, have your fun. I don't need pessimism on my team, especially not from feathers over here."

Kaylee shrugged innocently at Castiel, whose expression remained resolute. "I'd love to," she replied, her eyes blinking to black. Stepping over to the trapped angel, she pulled out a blade. Jeanette walked over to watch, leaving the Winchesters with an open lane to the front door.

"Then forget our help. Go on and kill us," Sam said, "because we aren't gonna help someone hell-bent on killing the good guys along with the bad guys. Dean, we're leaving," he added in a whisper. Taking charge for once, Sam pulled Dean's jacket towards the door.

Dean glared at his brother. "And leave Cas? Hell, no."

"Dean, Cas can take care of himself. We have to leave, now. Jeanette is...is _insane_, and this is our best bet. Please," Sam pleaded quietly.

"No."

"Then I'm sorry." Lightning-fast, Sam spun his brother around while punching him in the jaw. Dean was out like a light. Not even bothering to see if his brother was okay, Sam dragged Dean out the door, grabbing Jeanette's keys on the way out. She didn't attempt to follow them, just smiling and shutting the door after them.

Dumping Dean in the backseat, Sam turned the key in the ignition. Jeanette's greet Volkswagen Rabbit rumbled to life. Flooring the gas pedal, Sam swerved out into the road so fast he left black skidmarks. It was nearly five in the morning, so the roads were empty. Driving at breakneck speed, they were at Sam's motel room in a matter of minutes.

"...Sam?" Dean muttered, coming to slightly as Sam threw Dean and a duffel bag into the backseat of the Impala.

"Yeah?" Sam replied, pulling himself into the driver's seat.

"Sam," Dean said, angrily now, his memory of the previous hour returned to him. Clambering up, carefully, to the passenger seat, he glared at his brother as Sam started driving off. "Pull over. We aren't leaving Cas there."

Sam sighed. "I know you don't want to leave him, Dean. But there wasn't anything we could have done, anyways. We...should call Bobby."

Dean turned in his seat. "Yeah, what happened with you and Bobby anyway? I don't remember him after-you know- at all."

Sam gripped the wheel tighter, staring ahead at the road. "We had...an argument. You were out for about a day and a half before you came to, and...it's complicated. Really, I wouldn't be going at all, but now I think it's probably best."

"At least let me drive. I haven't driven her in weeks," Dean pleaded.

"No. You have a head injury-"

"Courtesy of you."

"-sorry-and anyways, you'd just drive back to Jeanette's house."

Dean couldn't argue with that. Moodily, he stared out the window. Not driving made him feel very out-of-control. How could Sam _stand_ it so much?

Picking up his spare cell phone from the glove compartment, Dean dialed Bobby's number. It rang four times before a very grumpy and tired voice answered, "it better be an emergency."

"Bobby?" Dean asked.

The voice squawked, suddenly awake. "Dean?! Hell, boy, I'm glad you're okay, but what do you want at...five oh three in the morning?"

"We're driving over there, should take us about a day." He paused, considering his next words. "Bobby...there's this...psycho lady named Jeanette Travers, can you find anything about her? She's small, and Asian, wants to slowly murder me, that kind of stuff." His voice cracked slightly. "She's got Cas," he said finally.

Bobby was silent for a few seconds, so that Dean was almost afraid the call had been lost. "I'll find her."

"We know where she lives," Dean said. "672 Chamoix Road, Druick, New Hampshire. But we need to regroup, figure some stuff out. She's _insane_, Bobby. We need to know information about her, find her weak spot." He paused, thinking. "She's smart. Be careful."

"I will."

"Thanks." Dean hung up. Turning to Sam, he raised his eyebrows. "So what was this big argument about?"

* * *

_Thank you so much for sticking with me and reading! Please review- what do you think the argument was about? I'm always curious to know what people think of my story! Have a nice day. -Jaq_


	8. Chapter 8

A/N_: Thank you so much for the follows, favorites, and reviews! I really love reading them. So...here. Y'all finally get to discover what Sam and Bobby's big argument was about. Poor Sam!_

_Anyways, enjoy reading and as always thanks for sticking with me. -Jaq_

* * *

_Dean hung up. Turning to Sam, he raised his eyebrows. "So what was this big argument about?"_

* * *

Sam shifted in the driver's seat, looking uncomfortable. "Nothing. I-I'm _fine_, Dean, don't look at me like that-look, it's nothing."

"No, it's not nothing. Tell me," Dean said, leaning back in the seat.

Sam continued driving. He stared ahead at the road, lit up like a ribbon by the headlights. Subconsciously, his hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I made a mistake," he said finally.

"Sammy-"

"Let me finish, Dean," Sam warned, his voice sounding harsh for a second.

"Fine. Go ahead," Dean said, putting his hands up in surrender.

Sam gripped the wheel tightly, his eyes deadset on the road. "I...don't know if you remember, but I wasn't there for the end of the fight. I mean, I was there at the very end, but not the whole time. Bobby...I _thought_ it was Bobby...had called me, told me I needed to go back there. So I did, and of course it was a trap- this last-ditch plan or whatever to get me to say yes." He paused, never meeting Dean's eyes. "It almost worked," he said in barely a whisper. "I...Bobby wasn't there. I don't know how they got that voicemail to sound so much like him. Maybe I just really wanted to think it was."

Dean was looking at his brother, a worried crease on his forehead.

"Anyways..." he sighed. "I-they-they _forced_ me to." His tone begged Dean to believe him, but it sounded as if he wa trying to convince himself, as well. "To...you know. Drink the demon blood." He grit his teeth, glaring fiercely at the road ahead. "Bobby came home after about an hour. I still don't know how he did it, but somehow he drove them out-or-or something. I passed out right after he came in. When I woke up...I could feel it, Dean, coursing through me..." Sam finally turned to look at his brother, his voice shaking. "And I liked it," he whispered. "It felt so good...so _powerful_..." Sam's face was contorted, remembering the guilty pleasure. "I wasn't..._me_ anymore. Or maybe that was me. I don't know."

"Sam," Dean began again, his tone shaken but calm, "this is you. You're you, right here. Trust me, okay?"

"There's more," Sam whispered, his voice almost breaking. "You know the devil's trap in the den? I...I walked into it, Dean. And I couldn't get out.

"Bobby let me out, eventually. After almost a day. Dean, I wasn't human. I was more demon that human, and I could feel it." Sam's voice grew angry, now, as he turned into an exit. "Dean, that wasn't me, but...it _was_."

Dean looked at him, confused.

"I mean, I had full control of myself. It wasn't like being possessed, but I was...angry, and powerful, and..." he lowered his gaze, turning down the intensity. "If, at a different time, I saw what I had become...I would have tried to kill it. Bobby wanted to, I could tell, and he should have. He should have, because it could happen again. The only reason I'm still alive is because there was war going on, and he couldn't afford- to kill me."

Dean's voice was rough when he broke into Sam's soliloquy. "It wasn't your fault. Those demons made you drink it, right? It wasn't your fault. Don't think like that, Sammy. It's gonna be okay. Why don't we find somewhere to crash? You haven't slept at all; I got a little bit earlier tonight. We can find a motel or something. Pull over."

Sam did so, pulling over at an exit to find a little motel, two fast-food places, and a gas stop. He parked at the motel and locked the car. Dean grabbed the duffel with their laptops and various effects, and Sam had the one with clothes in it.

The man who checked them in looked tired and cranky, and his demeanor proved the same. After what felt like hours, the Winchesters obtained a small room with a questionable smell and two beds that looked disgusting. Raising his eyebrows in disgust, Dean clambered onto the one closest to the door. He stuck his favorite pistol under his pillow and was out within minutes.

Sam, on the other hand, was not. Slowly, he got into bed. The room was dark, and so quiet (though maybe he was imagining it) that he could hear his heartbeat. His heartbeat, with every second pumping tainted blood through his veins. He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the sleep that wouldn't come.

He had lied to Dean. Not wholly, but all the same. The details were sketchy. Because Sam didn't want his brother to think he was a monster, even if he was. Sam wanted to believe those days were past him, that he was done with his...addiction. The truth was much harder to cope with.

Sam remembered Bobby's reaction when the older man had witnessed Sam's inability to leave the devil's trap. Bobby had first believed Sam was possessed, refusing to even think about any other scenario. He had tried every exorcism that he could think of, and lots of other things. It was only after Sam had broken down on the floor, sobbing, that Bobby accepted what had happened. And he didn't like it, not one bit. Bobby's first instinct was to kill Sam, but he didn't do that. He couldn't kill his adoptive son, not even when said son had started the end of the world and become one of the creatures he hunted. Instead, Bobby had had Sam drink holy water, flush the blood out of his system. It hurt- badly, but not quite as much as it would have had Sam been a full-fledged demon. No matter how much it hurt, Sam did it anyway, desperately trying to rid himself of the poison.

After twelve hours, Sam finally couldn't tell the difference between holy water and regular water. He could tolerate salt, but the trap held fast and there was no getting out. At last, Bobby scratched out a little bit, and Sam walked out.

**[CUE FLASHBACK]**

"_If it weren't for that damn war, son, I'd lock you in the panic room, but seeing as it is...I won't. But if you go near that stuff again, let...this...happen again, I'm going to have to kill you, Sam. I don't want to, believe me. But we can't have you running around like that. You aren't...you. You're angry, and...well, demonic." Bobby handed over the keys to the Impala. "Now go see what Michael's up to. I'll be here. Call me."_

_Sam took the keys, running out the door and into the car. He looked in the trunk and was filled with disgust for himself. There, underneath the weapons and supplies, was a flask. Sam clenched his jaw and slammed the trunk, climbing into the front seat. He didn't realize he had picked up the flask until it was in his mouth. _

_So he stopped at a bar. Sam wasn't really one for drinking away your feelings- that was more of Dean's thing- but he was out of options. After his sixth shot of vodka, he was feeling warm and loose. His vision was blurred around the edges, and after a couple more the bartender finally stopped serving him. _

_"Buddy," the young woman had said, "I don't know you, or your story. But I see a lotta guys like you who come in and drink themselves away, and it breaks my heart. Switch to beer, at the very least."_

_Sam looked up at her. "You...no. You have no idea. I've screwed everything up," he muttered._

_She put down the glass she was cleaning and leaned on the bar. "I'm listening."_

_Glancing up, Sam fingered his glass. He had a vague idea that he shouldn't talk to people when he was this inebriated for fear that he would be sent to a shrink, but he had long past the point of caring. _

_"Well, my brother's as good as dead, the closest thing I have to a dad hates me, and I don't even know who I am anymore," Sam said, staring into his empty glass. "I've got no one, and no reason to find anyone else. They'll just regret it. What am I saying? You're pretty. But I'm not interested. I wanted to drink and never wake up, you know. Doesn't the drink taste good tonight? Is this just a nightmare? I have those. Every night." Sam's voice was overemotional, and his face looked haggard. The bartender, whose name was Marcia, looked sadly at Sam and started massaging his thumb in a friendly way._

_"I'm afraid this isn't a nightmare," she said, checking her watch. "The bar closes at three, do you need a ride? You shouldn't drive like that; you'll kill someone."_

_"Like it matters. I've killed so many people..."_

_Marcia pulled her hand away abruptly, giving Sam a concerned look. "Alright, buddy. Time to go."_

_Sam left, feeling worse than before. He checked into a motel and locked himself inside his room. Grabbing the flask, he drained it, not caring for the consequences. _

_With a slight hiccup, Sam stared at himself in the mirror. He watched with horror as his eyes blinked to black. This was not a hallucination. This was real. He was a monster. _

_With considerable more effort than it would have taken him when sober, Sam drew a devil's trap on the floor in chalk from his duffel. With tears of guilt and anger streaming down his face, he threw himself into it. _

_Soon after, he fell asleep. Waking up the next morning, he was still trapped, but, strangely, not hungry or thirsty. Just...stuck. There was an awkward lump on his side that he had slept oh, but he didn't think about what that was yet. He stood up, looking around. His duffel bag was near him, its contents spilling out. There was a knife, a clean pair of clothes, and the flask. The flask. Sam stared at it, pressing his hand to the wall that seemed to hold him. His mouth salivated, and he made a face. Good thing he was stuck, too, or who knows what he would have done. Looking down at his hands, Sam noticed how unspeakably ordinary they looked. But those weren't human hands; they were the hands of a monster. _

_As the hours crawled by, Sam found a part of him wanted to be a monster. Wanted to feel the raw power and to know that people feared him. The part was becoming bigger and bigger, and threatened to take over. Sam grit his teeth, sweat breaking out on his forehead. Hands shaking slightly, he pulled the lump out of his jacket. It was the knife that Ruby had given him more than two years ago, one of the only things that could kill a demon._

_Sam fingered the blade, his spirits sinking lower by the second. He really should just end it. One blow, a quick downward thrust from above his chest, and it would all be over. _

_No. Not today. He had to hold on. What had Dean's last words to him been? _You get yourself killed, Sammy, while I'm out, and I will _never_ forgive you_. It had been brusque, and rough, and about five seconds later Dean had glowed with white light and after that Dean wasn't _Dean _anymore, and Sam was left nodding and biting his lip like an idiot. _

_Michael hadn't been that bad, he supposed, thinking back, but at the time, Sam had hated him with a passion. Cas' reaction was the worst, though. He and Dean had been...not exactly dating, but some sort of deep mutual affection had been taking place, and to have his boyfriend replaced by his superior had been hard. He knew, of course, that this was the best plan, but he didn't have to like it. _

_Sam had stayed that way for four days. After that, he had sworn not to _ever _do it again, but...that's also what he'd told himself last time. _

_Alone, tired, and thoroughly pissed off, Sam had trekked across the country to New Hampshire in time for the Michael/Lucifer faceoff._

**[END FLASHBACK]**

Sam stared up at the ceiling. It was barely distinguishable, but he was pretty sure there was a watermark above his head. He looked over at Dean, who was snoring in the other bed.

He was tired, though, really tired. Finally snapping, he reached into his duffel bag, fumbled around without the benefit of light, and removed a bottle of Tylenol PM. Unscrewing the cap, he shook two onto his palm. Sam swallowed the capsules dry, screwed the cap back on, and tossed the bottle back. Lying back down, he sighed, trying vainly to fall asleep.

* * *

_Well? Did that go how you expected? No? What do you think will happen? Please review- I love hearing from you, even if it's only a sentence or two. Constructive criticism, praise, it's all good. Thanks for reading! Since I'm done with the rough draft and almost done revising, updates to this story should be more frequent and the chapters longer. In total, this story is only about 25k words, so I should finish updating it soon._

_As a side note- I posted a short story called _He's Totally Not My Boyfriend_ that you might want to consider checking out if you're in the mood for some Destiel fluff!_

_Stick with me! -Jaq_


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: _Thanks so much to ncsupnatfan and Jenna (guest) for their lovely reviews! You guys are the best and have stuck with me through this whole fic so far and I'm really greatful. To the follows and favorites: thank you as well! You guys make my day :) Sorry for the late update, but I hope you enjoy this chapter! -Jaq_

* * *

_He was tired, though, really tired. Finally snapping, he reached into his duffel bag, fumbled around without the benefit of light, and removed a bottle of Tylenol PM. Unscrewing the cap, he shook two onto his palm. Sam swallowed the capsules dry, screwed the cap back on, and tossed the bottle back. Lying back down, he sighed, trying vainly to fall asleep._

* * *

Sam wasn't quite sure when he went to sleep, but he woke up, Dean was eating a doughnut and staring at the television.

"We made TV, look," he said around the doughnut. Turning up the volume a little, he faced his brother. " 'Wanted for theft and attempted murder.' Not bad, eh?"

"Dean, that is very bad. Murder, Dean. I'm sure this will make everything so much easier."

Dean shrugged, then his expression darkened. "Although," he added, "if I ever see Jeanette again it will be murder, alright."

Sam nodded tightly. "I'm going to take a shower."

"I'll alert the media."

Rolling his eyes, Sam left for the tin-can bathroom.

While Sam showered, Dean watched the news, his eyes glazing over. He didn't really care that they were "wanted" again, to tell the truth. He was more concerned about Cas. In fact, he was very, very concerned. And mad. The news program had done an interview with Jeanette and Kaylee (who had a nasty-looking gash on her arm that Dean hoped hurt like hell), who pleaded victims. Jeanette had spouted this story that she had heard Dean, in the hospital, and went to see what was the matter, when he escaped. It was all just airtight enough to withstand suspicion, and somehow Dean didn't count on it falling apart.

Suddenly, his cell phone rang. Dean looked at the screen, but he didn't recognize the number. He picked it up and answered. "Hello?"

"Dean. Let's be brief. I've got your angel-no, he isn't damaged-and you probably want him back, correct?"

Dean stood up, glaring into space. "Yes," he said, as the shower turned off.

"Excellent. If you swear to help me, I'll give him back undamaged when I'm done. Break that promise and he dies. It's simple, really."

Sam entered the room then, raising his eyebrows. Silently, Dean pit the phone on speaker. "And what if I refuse to work with those terms?"

There was a slight pause. "I don't think you will, somehow. That isn't how you work. You're going to try and save Cas, then kill me." She Be at Corvin's Diner at four o'clock on Wednesday." The line went dead.

"What did she want?" Sam asked, combing his hair.

Dean scowled. "She wants us to help her kill everything in return for Cas."

"And..."

"What do you think?" snapped Dean. "We can't go along with her stupid plan, but I'm not leaving Cas there."

Sam looked away. He bit his lip, thinking of what to say. The way Jeanette had looked at him earlier...she _knew_. And Sam wasn't ready for people to know yet, even Dean. Especially Dean. He pulled his jacket on, guiltily feeling the extra weight of the flask. It was empty, of course. He hadn't...binged...since those awful days in the hotel room before the endgame. But he kept it close, to remind him.

"Let's play along," he said finally. "At least at the start. It's our best option."

Dean looked unhappy at that, but he didn't argue. "It's Tuesday. We have to be at some place called Corvin's Diner at four tomorrow. Do you know where that is?"

Sam had opened his laptop and was typing. "It's loading. Okay, here." He turned it towards his brother so Dean could see the screen. "It's in Vermont. Should take about four hours to get to."

"Great. We'll leave tonight."

"Dean..." Sam began, glancing away.

"Yeah?"

"Look, I know you want to help Cas and stuff...but..." he took a deep breath.

Dean narrowed his eyes slightly, leaning back and crossing his arms. "But what?"

"I just think we should keep perspective. I mean, last time something like this happened, I started the end of the world. Just... Believe me, I want him back- but killing Jeanette might be more important." Sam ducked his head, refusing to meet his brother's eyes.

Dean was looking at him disgustedly. "Do you hear yourself? Sam, we've got each other, Cas, and Bobby. That's _it_. Anything, _anything_ comes after that." He stood up. "I'm going out."

Sam sighed and watched as Dean left the room. He stood up and closed his laptop, picking up his phone. Hating himself, he scrolled through his contacts until he found the number he was looking for.

"Hey. Yeah, he left in a fury. No. We're driving tonight. No, he's pissed, but he doesn't have a solution... what?" Sam clenched the phone tightly. "No. No, I can't- I _won't_ do that." His muscles clenched even tighter as the person he was calling spoke. Finally, he let out a breath. "Fine. Promise me."

He hung up and threw the phone back into his duffel bag. It was a risky move, but Sam didn't think there was another option.

•••

"You're sure this is it?" Dean asked as they pulled into the tiny parking lot behind a dimly lit diner.

"Yes." Sam hadn't spoken much since that morning, but Dean was annoyed enough not to notice it. They got out of the car and walked into the diner.

Jeanette was sitting at a booth in the back. Upon seeing the boys, she texted something on her phone, then slipped it into her purse. Sitting up and tucking a stray hair behind her ear, she smiled. "Hello."

Dean glared in response, and Sam nodded tightly.

"So. I have a live feed of Kaylee and Castiel, if you were wondering. He hasn't been damaged. Not really. Anyway, that's not the main reason why you're here."

Dean slid into the booth across from her. "I have a loaded pistol in my hand. Give me one good reason not to kill you," he said calmly.

"That'd be a bit harsh, don't you think? Anyway, if you kill me, Castiel will die. Kaylee has no problem making sure that happens. Now. To business?" She smiled.

"What do you even want from us?" asked Dean. Sam remained standing, his arms crossed. He didn't speak.

"I want your help. You two are- to put it simply- the best at what you do, from what I can see. It'd be nice not to have to kill you along with the rest. Okay? Just help me, and we can get rid of this whole mess," she said earnestly.

"You want...our help...killing our _friends_?"

"You haven't got any friends, Dean," Jeanette said. Dean stiffened. "I'm asking you to help me kill killers. Just desserts, right?"

"We aren't doing jack squat until Cas is back with us, you hear?"

"No. This is my one and final offer. Come back tomorrow, and we can talk. Unless…" she glanced at Sam knowingly. Dean looked between them, confused. "Good-bye." With that, Jeanette grabbed her purse and left, leaving Sam and Dean alone. Dean was furious.

"I didn't drive five hours for this," he growled, standing up and making as if to follow her. Sam stopped him.

"Look. We'll find somewhere to stay and come back tomorrow. Okay?"

"_Okay_? That's all you have to say? What the hell was that- that weird look she gave you about anyway?" Dean snapped.

Sam shifted. "I don't know. I mean, I have an idea," he lied (too easily, he thought- shouldn't it be more difficult to lie to the person he trusted most in the world?), "but that's just because she was threatening me earlier. Trust me, Dean. I'm not going to do anything stupid, okay?"

Dean relented. He didn't know what he would have done following Jeanette anyway, and he was too exhausted to argue more with Sam at the moment.

They found a hotel quickly enough. After dinner, Dean went to a bar. Sam stayed at the hotel, pacing back and forth. He checked his watch. Dean didn't have his little flings all night anymore-something about not cheating on Cas- but he wouldn't be back for several hours, probably.

Sam ripped off a sheet of paper from the pad of stationary on the table next to his bed. Pulling out a pen, he deliberated what to say.

_Dean-_

_I'm sorry. Don't try and find me. I don't know if I'll be back._

_-Sam_

It was obscure, but Sam was afraid to put any more. He placed the note on the other bed, where Dean would see it, and left. Dean had taken the car, but Sam didn't really have a problem with stealing one at this point.

He pulled on his jacket, closed the door, and locked it. Sam hotwired a blue compact Honda that had seen better days. It was old, and ugly, and probably not in great condition, but it would suffice.

* * *

_What do you guys want/hope will happen next? Please leave a review (I love hearing from you; don't be afraid to speak up!) if you can! -Jaq_


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: _Wow, thank you for sticking with me! Thanks once again to ncsupnatfan and Jenna, and to everyone who is following this story! Enjoy! -Jaq_

* * *

_Dean-_

_I'm sorry. Don't try and find me. I don't know if I'll be back._

**_-Sam_**

* * *

Just under an hour later, he screeched to a halt outside a house. Slowly, he walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell.

"Sam! It's good to see you. Come in."

"Kaylee."

The demon smiled. "Indeed. Cas is still there," she said, pointing to a flickering light coming from another room, "if you were wondering. Now, what could bring you here? Nevermind, it doesn't matter. Follow me."

"Let Cas go first," Sam said, shifting uneasily. He was a damn idiot. Why the _hell_ did he ever think this was going to work?

She smirked. "I don't want to."

Sam clenched his jaw. He had been afraid of this, but he knew that killing Kaylee and Jeanette was more important. THat was why he couldn't bring Dean, of course. His brother would never agree.

Sam pulled out a gun. Kaylee laughed, a confused expression on her face. "You know, Sammy, that that gun won't do anything?"

Looking around into the room, Sam spotted a vase of flowers on a desk near Castiel. If he could just…

He shot a leg out of the desk, and the vase (filled with water) spilled over the ring of holy fire. Cas, no longer trapped, was forced out of the vicinity by the sigils Kaylee had painted in...well, either blood or dark red paint, and Sam didn't really care to know which one.

"Where's Jeanette?" Sam asked warily, looking around.

Kaylee grinned, her black eyes sparkling dangerously. "Dead. Do you really think I was on-board with her whole scheme? No, I just want...well, I'm not that stupid. Sammy, I'm sorry. You see, Jeanette did have this one weakness. She honestly didn't want to kill you and your brother. I really have no such qualms." She flicked her wrist, and Sam was thrown back. His head snapped back, and for the second time in as many days, he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

•••

Dean was in a bar. He was drinking, specifically. Looking down at his glass, he sighed. The tequila white lightning certainly helped, didn't it? Funny how alcohol did that. All of your problems...whoosh!

"Dean," came a familiar voice behind him. So that had been what the whooshing was about.

"Cas? How are you, baby?" Dean slurred. Then, realizing what he had just said, he turned to face the speaker. "Cas! You- how did you get out? You are so pretty, Cas. Can I touch your hair?"

"Dean, are you drunk?" Cas asked, a note of worry in his voice.

"Yeah. Better than being sober, eh? You didn't answer my question."

"Sam is at Jeanette's. Although I have reason to believe that Jeanette is dead," he answered.

Dean was touching Cas' hair. "Tha's good," he mumbled. "Is Sam okay?"

Gently, Cas removed Dean's hand. "Let's go to the hotel and discuss this."

Frowning, Dean nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. But the car, okay?"

Cas nodded. "But you aren't driving like this." With a touch, Dean was sober again.

Dean threw a wad of money on the counter and left with Cas. He gunned the Impala's engine, and they sped off to the hotel. Once inside, Dean immediately saw Sam's note.

"Dammit, Sammy," he muttered. "Alright, Cas, tell me everything."

Castiel looked at Dean without emotion. "I was trapped. Kaylee did...torture me a little, but I'm fine. It's Sam you should be worried about. She has him." He looked away. "I can't go back there. I'm sorry. But she has successfully angel-proofed it. As soon as the holy fire was put out, I was immediately thrown out. It took me several hours to find you. I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

Dean shook his head. "That's fine, Cas. It isn't your fault."

"Dean..."

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember?"

Dean smiled. "Yeah. I'm back, Cas." He took a hesitant step forward, and then gave Castiel a hug. The angel relaxed into it, and hugged Dean back.

After a few seconds, Dean finally pulled away. "Right, we need to find Sam."

•••

Sam woke up strapped to a cold metal table. He shivered, realizing in doing so that his shirt was missing. Kaylee was standing over him, smiling.

"Wakey wakey, Sammy."

Sam clenched his muscles, staring up at Kaylee. "Where am I? And why are you doing this?"

"We're in an old school building. It burned down years ago, but there's still a gymnasium underground. And as for why...

"Sam. I haven't really got anything against you. But Dean..." she glared. "I am going to break your brother," she hissed, leaning in closer. "And that starts with you. Do you want to to know the truth about him?"

Sam said nothing, just glared at her. The lights in the ceiling were dim, but he could see fairly well.

"Well, I'm going to show you. Do you know what your brother did in hell?" Kaylee waited for a response.

"Look, my brother made mistakes, but so has everyone. Ad what he did down there wasn't him," Sam insisted. He felt a shiver run down his spine. Kaylee pulled out a syringe filled with a clear liquid, making Sam squirm involuntarily.

Running the syringe up Sam's abdomen, Kaylee smiled viciously. "Oh, Sammy. It was him down there, all right. I should know. I was his favorite little chew toy for almost ten years. Think it's a coincidence? No, I've been looking for your brother since the moment I got out." She pulled the syringe away, staring at the needle point. Sam swallowed, flexing uselessly against the restraints. They were straps- almost seatbelt-like, and tight. There were two on his abdomen, one on each wrist and ankle, one holding each of his limbs down, and a final strap across his neck.

Seeing his discomfort at the needle, Kaylee smirked. "Don't worry," she almost purred. "These are memories. Of course, your brain won't be able to comprehend that. You'll think everything in here is real. The way it works, your brain will even start to rewrite the program, tune it to your thoughts and fears. It'll be...personal. You'll think it's real, of course. And who says it isn't?"

She plunged the needle into Sam's bicep. Just before he lost her in the swimming sea of black, she smiled.

"Say your prayers, bitch, because it's going to be a long day," she whispered.

And then it wasn't Kaylee standing over him, but Dean. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Dean-"

"Say your prayers, bitch, because it's going to be a long day," growled Dean. Sam's eyes widened, but he couldn't move. The straps had tightened to the point of physical discomfort.

"Dean?" Sam faltered, looking at his brother. Dean's eyes had that glint they got sometimes-when he was about to kill something. When Dean made hard choices. "Dean, can you hear me?"

His brother payed no attention, pulling out a knife and inspecting it. "I can hear you, Sammy," he said in a low tone. "And you can scream all you want. You got us killed, Sam-you deserve every second of this."

Sam swallowed. "Killed? How-" but then his question dissolved into screaming as Dean plunged the knife in. A blow like that-it should have killed him, which made Sam absolutely certain. He was dead, this was hell, and everything he was experiencing was one hundred percent real.

* * *

_*cringes* Please don't hurt me for hurting Sam! I'm going to try and update tomorrow if possible, but if not I won't be able to update for a week, sorry! Please leave a review, it takes a second and makes my whole day! -Jaq_


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: _Sorry for the delay! The response to the last chapter was amazing, so before we begin I'd like to thank ncsupnatfan, Sharllissa, Winchestersfordarwin, and Jenna (guest)! You guys are awesome and I'm so glad to see people taking the time to tell me they like my story. And now, what you've all been waiting for..._

-Jaq

* * *

_Sam swallowed. "Killed? How-" but then his question dissolved into screaming as Dean plunged the knife in. A blow like that-it should have killed him, which made Sam absolutely certain. He was dead, this was hell, and everything he was experiencing was one hundred percent real._

* * *

All he could see was Dean. Dean laughing and saying, "come on, Sammy. Just a little prick. Are you scared of knives?"

"Dean, please," Sam gasped. He could feel himself knitting back together, made whole again to be tortured anew. Clenching his fists, he pleaded silently. "Dean, this isn't...this isn't you." _Dean was his brother, who helped him and supported him and sometimes they fought, but that was okay. Dean was going to make everything all right, and then he was going to go against the world with a Zippo and a sawed-off shotgun and Sam by his side, and then he was going to light the Zippo and burn Sam's flesh and there was so, so, much pain..._

"Are you sure about that? Because it sure feels like it. Feels good, Sammy," Dean confided. Sam closed his eyes and clenched his muscles as his brother once again picked up the knife.

Kaylee watched her patient with a sense of satisfaction. Sam was writhing on the table, muttering over and over "please" and "Dean." It was extremely satisfying, knowing that he was experiencing the same pain she had felt. And it was much faster. Sam had probably simulated five years by now- maybe more with a brain as good as his.

In the outside, the "real" world, time continued on as it always had. But inside Sam's head, things were much different. The information was all sensory, getting in and ruining his sense of time. For Sam, the minutes stretched back into forever, the equivalent of years.

It never got any easier. Each morning without fail, Dean would lean over him and whisper, "say your prayers, bitch, because it's going to be a long day," and Sam would close his eyes and brace himself. He dimly remembered what he thought was dying-just bits and pieces really-but he had never expected this. Hell, maybe. Who in their right mind would think Sam, the boy who started the apocalypse, drank demon blood, and killed hundreds innocent people in the process would, after all, consider him for heaven? He hadn't liked the idea, but Sam had expected it.

The one thing he hadn't expected was being tortured by his brother. Not Dean _enjoying_ it. Sam had made up his mind, now. He-he hated Dean Winchester with all his heart, with any bits of soul he had left. Sam would kill his brother in a heartbeat, if it meant an end to this. But he couldn't move. Just watch his brother gleefully tear him apart.

"Son of a bitch," he gasped, as Dean, smiling, razored his side.

Dean shook his head and clucked. "Don't go around insulting Mom, Sammy," he said in a chastising tone. "Not quite the manners she would have taught you if you hadn't been a freak that got her killed."

After filleting Sam for a minute, Dean pulled out a jug of vinegar.

Sam screamed as it seared his cuts, seething and fiery. "I hate you," he moaned through the haze of pain.

Dean merely smiled. "And that's supposed to bother me? I'm afraid I don't care. You see," he said, pulling out a knife, "when we were topside, you were always getting into trouble. You were always the freak, Sam, getting us hurt. It's your fault that Mom died, and thus your fault Dad and me died, and it's your damn fault that the world is ending up there. So I don't give a rat's ass if you hate me. I'm doing my job. And I happen to like it. So shut up and take it like a man. If you can even be called that, that is. Freak. You're a monster, Sam. I'm glad I got the opportunity to show you that." Down came the knife, quick and sharp to Sam's stomach. Sam screamed.

"That's for me," Dean snarled. "For me, and Mom and Dad, and every other person you've gotten killed." He stabbed again, right next to the previous wound. "Keep screaming, but don't think it'll do any good. I'm just starting to have fun."

•••

Dean skidded to a stop outside Jeanette's house, spraying gravel from her driveway everywhere. Angrily, he slammed the car door and ran up the front steps. The house had several locks, but after shooting them with a shotgun it didn't. He walked in.

"Sam?" he called, keeping his gun up. There was no response. Cautiously, he pushed open a half-ajar door. The first thing he saw was the blood, a huge, red puddle of it on the floor. He slammed on the lightswitch, immediately fearing the worst.

Jeanette's body lay there, her neck slashed through. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, his body relaxing slightly. After looking around the otherwise empty room briefly, he left it. He walked down the dark, empty hallways, finding nothing. After almost five hours, he felt certain Sam and Kaylee were not inside.

It was now just after three in the morning, but Dean had no interest in sleeping. When he arrived back at the hotel, he pulled out Sam's laptop, intending to use the GPS tracker on his brother's phone. Nothing. It had either been turned off or destroyed.

"Right," he muttered, pulling up a map on the laptop. There were too many spots, unfortunately, that could harbor Sam and Kaylee. "Cas?"

The angel appeared, sitting on the other bed. "Yes?"

Dean frowned. "You- can you see Sam, or whatever?" He held his breath as Cas closed his eyes and concentrated. After what felt like forever, Cas opened his eyes and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Dean. Wherever it is, it must have angel-warding." He looked up at Dean sadly.

"What I don't understand is why Kaylee would kill Jeanette," Dean spoke aloud. "I thouht they were working together or something. I just- it's Sam, Cas. I always let him down, and he acts like nothing happened."

Cas remained silent.

Dean didn't remember falling asleep, or even knowing that he was falling asleep, but the next thing he knew it was nine in the morning. Cas was sitting next to him, staring out into space.

"Dean. I think I know where your brother is," he said gravely.

Dean sat up, not tired at all. "Let's go, then," he said. "Where? And how?"

"I looked everywhere, but there were some places I could not see. That's where he must be. It's the basement of a burned-down school not too far from here."

"God, I love you," Dean muttered. He felt lighter, and he began throwing his stuff into a duffel bag.

"I'll be in the car," Cas said, and dissapeared.

•••

Kaylee watched her victim, smiling. Sam was sweating hard, even though the cool March day was only about 60° Fahrenheit. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he was screaming-that sound was _music_ to her ears.

For Sam, it hd been-well, years. _Years_ of mental and physical torture, trapped in a endless cycle. It grated at his head, and it almost seemed like there had never been anything else.

Dean was looming over him, knife in hand. The knives were Dean's favorite. Sam braced himself, closing his eyes and waiting for the searing pain that would follow.

It didn't. He opened his eyes. Dean was still standing over him, still holding the knife. Sam watched as his brother brought it down, and he braced himself again. Here it was. And then it-wasn't? Sam blinked.

"Sam? Sammy, answer me," his brother urged. Sam imstinctively shrank away, fear wide in his eyes. Was this some new kimd of torture? Something even worse? Dean reached his hand down to Sam, and the latter's breath quickened. Dean touched his brother's shoulder worriedly, and Sam flinched. He started hyperventilating, and sank into unconsciousness.

While out, Sam stirred slightly. He flinched again and again, sometimes punctuated by gasps of "Dean."

"Sammy, I'm here," Dean shouted, his voice cracking and his forehead creasing. Sam was still breathing, but faintly. Dean didn't know where Kaylee was, but he didn't care at the moment. With a few quick slashes, he cut off the straps keeping Sam on the table. Grunting at the weight, he lifted his brother and staggered outside to the car.

Dean gently deposited Sam in the backseat, and Cas migrated to the front. Dean started the engine and they sped down the road.

"Cas, can you zap us to Bobby's?" Dean asked urgently.

Cas looked at Dean curiously. "Even the car?"

"Yeah, if you can manage it. Please."

Cas stiffened slightly, and in an instant the scenery outside changed. "We're about two miles outside of Bobby's house," he said.

"Thanks."

In a few minutes, they arrived. Dean banged on the door until Bobby answered it, looking slightly disheveled and very confused. "Dean?"

"Sam's unconsious, in the car. He might need medical attention, I'm not sure. Either way, we need a place to crash. We've got Cas back," he rambled, stopping abruptly.

"Good. Well, come on in. You hungry?" Bobby turned away, walking back inside. Dean turned back to the car to see Cas holding Sam and walking towards him. He nodded and walked inside, missing Cas' look of revulsion the minute he had touched Sam.

•••

Once Sam was lying on the couch, Dean had a beer and explained, to the best of his knowledge, what had happened.

Upon entering the gymnasium, Dean had immediately located Sam. Kaylee was nowhere to be found. After making sure Sam was alive and stable, Dean spraypainted over the angel-warding sigils, allowing Cas to enter.

Sam hadn't woken up for almost an hour. Cas had been unable to heal him, telling Dean gravely that there was nothing he could heal. It wasn't an illness, or an affliction, from an outside source. Sam was, effectively, trapped in his mind and whatever he had been experiencing.

When he finally had woken up, for a few seconds, he had fallen right out again after seeing Dean and, according to Cas, been overloaded with sensory information and gone to autopilot.

Just as Dean finished, Sam began to stir. Dean immediately crossed the room to him.

Because of the angle his head was tilted on the couch, the first thing Sam saw when he woke up was Cas. When he saw the angel, he relaxed. "Cas?" he muttered, sounding relieved. Then be saw Dean. His breath quickening, Sam's pupils dilated and he shrank back. "Cas, don't let him...don't let him hurt me..."

Cas' eyes narrowed and he tilted his head slightly, not understanding. "I don't understand. Nobody here is going to hurt you."

Dean looked away. "Sam," he started, but before he had the chance to finish Sam cut in.

"Please," he said hoarsely. "Please, don't..."

"Dammit, Sammy, I don't want to hurt you! What did she /do/ to you?" Dean cried, feeling helpless. He ran a hand through his short hair, looking around at Cas and Bobby for answers they couldn't give.

Sam looked around desperately. On the table next to him was a knife. While Dean's back was turned, he grabbed it. Lurching to a stand, he lunged.

Luckily, Sam was off-balance, and slower than usual. Dean spun, grabbing his brother's wrist. At the touch, Sam tensed, but his entire body weight was behind the knife, and he continued with what strength he had.

"'M sorry, Dean," he said, "but you can't hurt me. Or anyone else. Not like you did."

Dean looked desperately at his little brother. He didn't want to hurt Sam, he couldn't.

Suddenly, Cas was in between them. Calmly, he touched Sam's forehead, and the young man fell forward. Dean caught him just before he hit the floor.

"What did you do?" Dean asked, half-dragging Sam back to the couch.

"I just put him to sleep shortly. He'll be fine in a few minutes," Cas replied. He hesitated, then continued, "Dean...when he wakes up, it might be best for you to be elsewhere. In Sam's best interest."

Dean didn't want to, but he did see the sense in it. Closing his eyes, he nodded. "What could Kaylee have done to him?" he asked angrily.

Cas remained silent.

Bobby spoke up then. "Dean," he said quietly, "has Sam told you what he did?"

Dean looked up sharply. "Yes. And it wasn't his fault, okay? End of story."

Bobby looked away, but he didn't argue.

"Dean..." Sam muttered. Dean immediately strode over to him, but Sam was still asleep.

Sam flinched in his sleep, digging back into the couch. He scrunched up, drawing his knees up and ducking his head. "Dean.../please/..." he cried, sounding broken and lost.

Dean swallowed hard, hesitating just before shaking Sam out of his sleep.

"I-think I'd better go," he said gruffly. He exited to the room he and Sam always shared when they were at Bobby's.

It had two twin beds, put there when they were kids. That was the way it was supposed to be-Sam in one, Dean in the other. Trusting each other. Dean trusted three people with his life, and they were all under this roof. Anyone else he might have trusted was dead.

He sat down on his bed. What had Kaylee done to make Sam act like that? What could, in the space of just under twenty-four hours, make his little brother want to kill him?

Dean cradled his head in his hands. How had he screwed up so majorly? Just when it all was over, when the freaking _apocalypse_ was stopped, he had hoped that maybe...

Maybe he and Sam could finally escape. Maybe there wouldn't be a need for hunters anymore. He could go do something normal, and Sam could go back to college, live a normal life. Normal, normal, normal. Ha.

There was a slight rustle, and then Cas was sitting next to him. Dean glanced over.

"Dean..."

"Where did I go wrong, Cas?" Dean exclaimed, louder than he'd intended. In a slightly quieter tone, he continued, "I just want this whole thing to be over. I-I see what Jeanette meant, wanting to get rid of it all. How do we know the apocalypse even did end? After all, it didn't destroy the world, just a field in New Hampshire. Sam wasn't a vessel. Hell, I don't know where Sam was at all. I wasn't exactly conscious and able the whole time, you know? I just want answers, Cas."

Castiel sat in silence for several seconds. "Dean, I...do know a little, if that would help."

Dean looked up expectantly. Cas furrowed his brow slightly.

"Sam was..." he looked at Dean. "Sam was drinking demon blood, Dean. Voluntarily. I can tell. I have a theory, though it may not be right..."

"Wait. You're telling me he's back on the demon juice?" Dean said angrily.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. As I was saying-"

"Hold up. Sam is back on that stuff and you didn't tell me?!"

"I didn't know until five minutes ago, Dean! Anyways, about the apocalypse...it may not be over, not entirely."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean shouted.

Cas looked away. "I am unsure. I'm sorry, Dean."

"No. It's-it's fine. Go-talk to Sammy, make sure he's okay. Really, Cas. I'm fine."

Dean watched as Cas frowned, but left. He sighed with relief. Dean didn't like lying to Cas one bit, but it wouldn't do anyone any good if he just sat like a baby. The world, he was sure, had bigger problems and things to worry about than Dean Winchester and his feelings.

* * *

_Well then! What do you think now? Have I screwed with your feelings (and possibly confused you- sorry if I have) enough yet? Please tell me what you think because reviews are like chocolate to me. Thanks! -Jaq_


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: _ Another chapter, and I don't really have anything to say in the a/n today, so thanks to ncsupnatfan, Sharlissa, and Jenna (guest) for reviewing!_

* * *

All Sam dreamed of was hell, over and over again. Years of it flew by as he slept quietly on the couch.

Castiel walked slowly over to the sleeping man and touched his shoulder. Immediately, Sam's eyes flew open. His gaze flew wildly around for a fraction of a second before landing on Cas.

"C-Cas?" he gasped.

Cas nodded. "Are you okay, Sam?"

"I-yeah, I'm fine-where is Dean?" Sam's pupils dilated slightly as he said his brother's name. He sat up slowly.

"Dean is upstairs. Would you like me to get him?" asked Cas.

"No, no," Sam said emphatically, grabbing Cas' trenchcoat. "Cas, you have to kill him," he begged, his look haggard. "Please, Cas. I'm not strong enough yet. Just go up there and kill him. Please."

"Holdup," said Bobby. "No one is killing anyone until you explain what exactly is going on, got it?" He stepped closer, folding his arms and raising his eyebrows at Sam.

"I-Cas, you must have raised us-but we were in-in hell, both of us. And Dean...you remeber what he did in hell. Dean was doing that. To me. It was him," he said to the question rising on their lips. "It was definitely him.

"Sam," Cas said, confused, "you weren't dead."

"Yes, I was. I was in hell. Dean was torturing me." Every time Sam said his brother's name, he spat it out like a bad piece of meat. "How do you explain that if I wasn't dead?"

Bobby shrugged. "Sam, your brother didn't torture you. Right now, he's probably sitting on his bed wondering what he did to make you so scared of him."

"No," Sam said, shaking his head. "I am not crazy. Dean has to be killed. I'll do it myself," he said, swallowing nervously and standing. Cas immediately stepped in front of the steps.

"No. Sam, you've been drugged, hallucinating."

"For twenty-three years?" Sam cried out hysterically. "I'm still twenty-seven! How else do you explain this? I'm not insane. I am perfectly normal. Please. Trust me. You have to."

"No, I don't," Cas warned. "You've been drinking demon blood, I can smell it on you. I'm only acting hospitibal towards you for your brother's sake. Sit down and explain yourself. All those days, visiting Dean in the hospital, I can't believe I never noticed it before."

Sam's gaze darted around the room, his fingers twitching slightly. "I-please. It was an accident. I won't do it again. I juat want this all to be over, but I can't die. If I die, I'll be back in hell, and Dean will torture me. I just need an escape." He turned desperately to Bobby. "You would know, Bobby, yours is drink," he spat. "And Cas, I think the only thing grounding you is Dean. So go on, tie me up in the panic room again. Please. Do whatever you want with me. But you have to kill Dean."

Cas stepped towards Sam, who backed up. The angel looked at Sam sadly. "You really do just want to get out of it all, don't you," he said softly.

Sam nodded hopelessly. "But I've realized that isn't going to happen."

•••

Sounds funnel up staircases extremely well, and Dean could hear every word being said, nonwithstanding Sam's urges for Cas to kill him. He sat on the bed. This was great. Just great. Dean wanted to smash something. But he didn't. He didn't want to scare Sam. Swallowing hard at the realization that his presence _would_ scare his brother, he hung his head. Dean was pretty sure this was all his fault. He wasn't sure how, exactly, but...yeah. His fault. It couldn't be Sammy's fault, not his little brother whom he had quite literally been through hell for and who just wanted a normal life.

Dean thought about Kaylee. There was something in her, about her, that had a ring of familiarity about it, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. She was the root of the problem. Figure out who she was, and you're that much closer to the solution. He cursed. She hadn't been at the gymnasium; except for Sam, it had been empty.

Which was way too easy, of course. Dean swore again, quietly. Kaylee had wanted Sam to get away. Somehow she had already done something bad enough to him that she didn't need him anymore. That was bad. Very, very bad. Dean stood up and walked-quietly, only Cas would be able to hear him-to the top of the staircase. If he bent down, he could see Sam, Bobby, and Cas, but they'd have a more difficult time seeing him.

Cas was standing rigid, poised, in front of Sam. He was so much shorter, but he still cut a very imposing figure. Bobby was a little to the side with his arms crossed.

"Sam," said Cas quietly. "I'm only going to reason with you for so long. I hae been tortured, trapped, and worried about the two of you fr long enough. You don't need to kill your brother. Is that clear?"

Sam was clearly losing his patience as well. "I'm not delusional, Cas! I know my own brother. And I know when he has to be stopped. You're partial to him, but I've known him my entire life. That down there was Dean. Not a demon, not a shapeshifter. Who else would-would hum Led Zeppelin while cutting someone open?" Sam's voice raised a bit, and Dean flinched slightly. He knew he hadn't done it-tortured Sam, or whatever, but he did remember. Back in hell. He'd hummed a lot of songs. It kept his mind occupied, made everything both a little more sick and twisted and a little easier. He swallowed.

"Do you know what he'd say to me, Cas? Every damn day. He'd say, 'say your prayers, bitch, because it's going to be a long day.' And then I knew it was real, because Dean gets that-that_ look_ in his eyes."

Dean's face had gone white. He opened and closed his mouth, breathing heavily and looking away. How had Sam known? Every day, Dean remembered. Picking up the knife and leaning over his victim. _Say your prayers, bitch, because it's going to be a long day._

He slowly walked down the stairs. Sam immediately turned and looked up, his hand automatically going to where his knife would have been.

Dean raised his hands. Still shaken, he walked over to Sam. His brother's chest rose and fell quicker now, Sam's breaths shallower.

"Sammy..."

"Don't you _ever_ call me that again, you-you," Sam growled, apparently not even able to come up with an insult bad enough for what he felt.

Dean nodded. "I'm sorry. Sam." He lowered his eyes. "Sammy-_Sam_- I don't know what happened, okay? But I swear to you, I would _never_ hurt you-"

Dean was cut off by Cas, who suddenly grabbed his shoulder, taking him outside.

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean exploded.

"Dean. I think I know what may have happened to your brother," Cas said.

"I'm all ears, if you care to share," Dean replied sarcastically, still a little pissed at Cas for zapping him away.

"There are ways for demons to...not exactly communicate, per se, but to share memories. It's in their blood." Cas looked away.

"So you're saying Sam can...share memories?" Dean said, frowning slightly. "I don't get it."

Castiel sighed, turning slightly. "It's complicated. Kaylee may have forced memories upon him. Memories of her time in hell. Dean...do you remember? Torturing her, specifically?"

Dean opened his mouth to say no, but even as he did he remembered.

Kaylee. Of course. She didn't look like that; she still had her original human body. She'd broken easily. Dean cursed. And now, back topside, what was the first thing she-anyone-would want to do? They'd want to kill the person who had done all that to them.

No, not kill, Dean thought. Torture, long and slow. Dean was a death wish, to anyone he loved. He swallowed hard.

"Cas," he said, "I've got to get away from you, and Bobby. She wants to hurt me by hurting you."

Cas looked at Dean solemnly. "I'm not leaving," he replied simply. "I am perfectly capable of protecting myself. And you, if it becomes necessary."

Dean turned away. He knew Cas would, to the death. But if Kaylee had the opportunity, who knows what she would do? No, the best way was for Dean to find Kaylee, alone.

"Alright, Cas," he sighed, lying through his teeth. "I'll stay." He half-smiled and went to walk back inside.

"I think it'd be best if you stayed outside," Cas remarked. Dean made as if to argue, but closed his mouth abruptly. He nodded as Cas walked inside, glancing at his car. He would leave, Dean thought, as soon as possible.

* * *

A/N 2: _Please review? I'll update again hopefully next week. Also, if you get the chane, check out my story "Batman," it's been getting awesome reviews and I'd love if you'd give it a shot! Leave a comment on what you thought of this chapter, please? _

_-Jaq_


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: ****_Hi there. Uh. It's been a long time since I've been able to update this- I've had a lot of computer issues and _****of course****_ this is the one story I have that is only saved on the hard drive and not google docs or fliq notes. Of course. Anyways, I hope you all are still willing to read it! Thanks to Winchestersfordarwin, Jenna, and ncsupnatfan for reviewing the last chapter! You guys rock! Anyways, onto the next bit. _**

**_-Jaq_**

* * *

Bobby was concerned, to say the least. Sam and Dean's relationship was something special. It was family, but it was that and friendship, and more trust than anything he had ever seen. Or at least, it had been. For the last five minutes, he had just listened to Sam, explaining why he needed to kill his brother. There were a lot of reasons.

His mind flitted back to that night he had walked in on Sam. The boy was covered in blood-most of it not his own-and was kneeling by the neck of what appeared to be a boy in his late teens. It was a demon, of course. Bobby, enraged, had begun to shout at his surrogate son. Sam had simply stood up and begun to walk over towards him, calmly. Too calmly.

That was when he got caught. Bobby's first thought was that Sam was possessed. It was the only rational option, right? It was almost a day later that he started to entertain the idea that it really was Sam.

He looked up as Castiel walked back into the room. "So?" he asked.

Cas frowned slightly. "I think I may know what happened to Sam."

Sam folded his arms. "What?" He stepped closer to Cas, peering around at the entrance to Bobby's house. His jaw visibly tightened when he saw Dean standing outside, but he didn't bolt or comment on it.

"You aren't going to like it," Cas warned.

"So? Tell me!" demanded Sam. "I deserve to know."

Bobby raised his eyebrows at Sam, who almost never raised his voice this suddenly.

Cas appeared not to notice. "I believe Kaylee may have force-injected you memories of her time in hell," he said flatly. "Because you and her share blood, it is possible."

Sam's response died in his mouth, and he looked down. "But...those weren't memories. Dean _knew _who I was."

"It wasn't Dean. It was Kaylee's memories of Dean, and your brain supplied the interaction. It's similar to hallucinating, only she can control it o a degree. Also, the drug she added affected your perception of time. You were only actually under for less than fifteen hours."

Sam shook his head. "Force-injection? Controlled hallucinations? This sounds like a bad sci-fi novel. Get real, Cas. I knew Dean tortured people. It was his job down there. Somehow, we must have died, and he carried on with his job. If you didn't bring us back, then someone else must have."

"Sam, you _weren't dead_," Cas said, a bit of nerve showing through his voice. "I can tell. And I know Dean wasn't dead. He was trying to find you."

"Me? Yeah. Okay. So that explains it all away. You know, I could be a threat to you. All of you, here. I'm unstable, I've got an-an uncontrollable addiction to a substance that makes me evil, and my brain at least thinks I just got back from hell," Sam said, challenging Cas. He unfolded his arms and gestured with them as if begging Castiel to take him seriously.

"Oh?" said Bobby. "Suddenly you're threatening again? Listen, boy, you've made an assload of bad decisions, but somehow you and your brother have pulled through. If you were less impulsive, less Sam-knows-all, then maybe you wouldn't need to be threatening." His tone made it clear that Bobby was still not over the demon incident, and he gazed at Sam through half-trusting eyes.

"Well at least I'm not running away," hissed Sam. "If Dean is so innocent, and everything that's bad that's ever happened is my fault, why would he run?" Sam spat, pointing at the quickly receding Impala.

Bobby cursed, and looked to Cas. The angel shook his head, frowning. "He's warded it," Cas said, sounding confused and hurt.

"Dammit." Bobby stumped over to the door and checked the lot. There were currently five cars in good running condition, but a closer inspection revealed cut ignition lines. Bobby cursed again.

"Well, Sam, I hope you're happy," he said sarcastically.

Sam stood in silence. When Dean's car was no longer visible, he walked back inside. His mind was racing.

Who was Dean? Sam felt like he barely knew his older brother. Hell felt...real. So agonizingly real, but...it didn't add up anymore. There was one thing that Sam was certain about, and it didn't have to do with his brother.

Sam was positive that he was a failure. He was a blood junkie again, for starters. Not to mention everything else he'd managed to accomplish- opening the devils' gate, starting the apocalypse, killing innocent people- honestly, the world would have fared better without Sam Winchester.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. It seemed so ordinary. As if.

Sam's contact list had once been filled with names-college frat buddies, the other guys on the basketball team, and people he had come to know-but currently it contained two names. Bobby and Dean. (It also contained Dean's other two cell phones and three of Bobby's, but those didn't count.)

Sam remembered his brother taking him out and, of all the stupid little things in the world, flying a kite. Sam couldn't have been more than four, and Dean eight. Dean had assured Sam that he knew what he was doing, although it was clear he didn't.

It was such a different person from the one that had laughed tonelessly, and, watching closely with a gleam in those dead eyes, cut Sam open with a butterfly knife.

The memories grated at each other, giving Sam a headache. He sat down on a chair and rubbed his eyes. Sam was tired. Of hunting, of his brother, and of living.

•••

Dean felt a pang of guilt at the angel warding, but he shrugged it off. This was more important. He didn't care what he took-he was going to find Kaylee and send that bitch back where she belonged. She had taken Cas from him temporarily, and now Sam wanted to kill him. Seeing his brother like that cut Dean more than he'd have liked to admit.

He pushed in a cassette tape. How many cars even took cassette tapes any more, he didn't know. But as Metallica came blasting through the speakers, Dean felt himself relax slightly. Music did that. It was an escape, something to grab onto. The song pounded into his head, the drums and guitar clashing and vibrating, helping him focus.

The Impala pulled into the abandoned gymnasium. Dean grabbed the demon-killing knife, checked his gun, and walked inside. The gun wouldn't do much damage, he knew, but he hoped that it would be enough to slow her down if necessary.

He hadn't really thought Kaylee would be there, but it never hurt to look, and it was the best lead they had.

Blood pumped in his ears, and adrenaline made his senses sharper than usual. Fear wasn't a bad thing, he thought. In fact, a little fear made him stronger, better.

Dean clenched his jaw at the table that Sam had been held on. The restraints were cut, courtesy of Dean himself, but whatever torture-force-injection of memories or whatever-she had inflicted on Sam was still quite present.

"I can smell your fear, Dean Winchester, and I like it," came a voice from the shadows. Out stepped Kaylee, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder.

"A little fear isn't a bad thing," Dean said to stall. He gripped the knife harder, feeling its familiar handle in his hand.

"Oh, I wouldn't try that if I were you," she said suddenly, her voice dropping to a much harsher tone. With a flick, Dean's knife was sent skittering across the floor, and Dean felt an invisible kick to his chest.

Winded, Dean keeled over and gasped for breath. When he finally caught it, he began an exorcism.

He was cut off by a sharp slap across his face. Kaylee stood over him in disgust. "Trying to send me back to hell, Dean? One round of torture not good enough? Well, you can do that, sure, but I will drag you down with me," she growled, punching him upside the jaw with superhuman strength.

Dean grunted and stood up, resuming the exorcism. In response, Kaylee screamed, using the heel of her hand to bash Dean's nose in. He felt it break, and his vision went momentarily blurry. Doggedly, he continued.

"Exorcise _this_, you son of a bitch," Kaylee grunted, starting to struggle to maintain her possession of the girl. With a quick thrust, she stabbed a short blade into Dean's mouth.

This time, he screamed. Kaylee smiled viciously. "Remember, Dean?" she crooned. "You, me, knives...how the tables have turned!"

With a smile, she punched Dean's collar bone, hard enough that he heard it crack. Dean moaned and fell on his good hand.

"Oh, I've waited for this." Relishing the words, Kaylee leaned over and whispered in his ear. "_Say your prayers, bitch, because it's gonna be a long day._"

* * *

A/N 2: _So, what do you think is going to happen? Please review, it makes my day. Thanks for reading! _

_-Jaq_


	14. Chapter 14 (the end!)

A/N: _ Well. This is it. This is the last chapter. It's a lot longer than usual, but since I won't have wifi at all next week I figured it was easier and kinder to give you all the whole thing. I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much to Dani, Sharllissa, ncsupnatfan, and Jenna for reviewing and reading this story, and to everyone who followed, favorited, and stuck with it! I love you all. And now, to the conclusion of our story!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

"He'll be at the gymnasium where I was held," Sam said stiffly. He still hadn't quite given in to the idea that his brother really didn't want to gut him.

"How do you know?" Cas asked curiously.

"Trust me. That's where he is. Now go zap on over there with your angel mojo and save the day. I'll wait here."

Cas' face clouded slightly, but it was still unreadable. With a hesitant nod, he disappeared.

As soon as Cas left, the tension between Bobby and Sam grew more tangible than ever.

"So, you're...off it?" asked Bobby.

Sam glared at the ground. "I'm fine," he said shortly.

"Listen, son, I-"

"No, Bobby, you listen. I've been force-fed friggin demon blood, told that I wasn't even human- hell, maybe I'm not. But you know, I'm trying, okay? Really. I guess I'm just not fated or whatever to make the right decisions. You should probably lock me up again-throw me in that stupid panic room-until I satisfy your version if normal. I won't resist."

Bobby hesitated before replying. "Sam..." he started. "You didn't answer my question."

"I said I'm fine! Everything is under control."

Bobby looked at him suspiciously, but he he didn't say any more.

Cas appeared then, frowning. "I can't get in," he said. "I can go to the entrance, but not through it. The sigils..."

Bobby looked at Sam, his face clear that he didn't want to leave Sam alone. Still, if he went with Castiel, who know what would happen. Dean could be in trouble.

"I'll go," Sam said shortly. "Bobby doesn't want me here, alone, because he's afraid I'll...lose control, and I'm more able-bodied than him anyway." Ignoring Bobby's immediate refusal of that statement, he turned to Cas. "Tell me what to mark out, and I'll do it. Lets go."

•••

Dean gasped, blood trickling out of his swollen lips. Kaylee smiled, and continued her attack. "Seven years, Dean," she hissed in between punches. "And now it's your turn."

Dean could hardly function, much less escape. He didn't reply as Kaylee's knife flashed into his shoulder and twisted, tearing muscles and ligaments, just moaned.

"I hope you're enjoying this," she said, "because I certainly am. It took almost a century for me to completely lose my humanity, you know? But those first seven years were the worst. The /worst/."

Suddenly, the door burst open and, to Dean's astonishment, Sam ran in.

"Sam?"

Sam didn't answer. He instead grabbed the knife from the floor and advanced towards Kaylee. She tried to smoke out, but Sam glared and made a fist, straining at the effort it took to keep her shut inside the girl she was possessing.

Dean scooted slowly out of the way, holding his shoulder and wincing.

With a slight grunt, Sam tensed his muscles and flexed his hand. Kaylee bubbled out of her vessel, smoking through the floor with a hiss of burning sulfur. The girl she had been possessing fell to the floor, Dean catching her head before it could slam against the tile. Ignoring his brother and the girl, Sam walked over to the wall and pulled out a can of bright red spray-paint. After shaking it a couple times, he painted a big 'X' over several of the sigils marking the walls.

As soon as he was done, Cas entered quickly, his eyes immediately fastening on the elder Winchester brother slumped against the wall, barely conscious and cradling the unknown girl's head. Kneeling over, he touched Dean's face softly, and the cuts and bruises healed instantly. Sam walked over, not looking at his brother, and Castiel zapped them- and Kaylee's vessel- back to Bobby's.

•••

"Dean-"

"I _know_, Cas, I'm sorry, okay? I won't go running off without first telling someone again. My apologies," he said, somewhat sarcastically.

Castiel sighed, not quite forgiving Dean but finding it difficult to stay angry. After all, Kaylee was dead. That was a good thing, right?

Sam was standing in the corner, silent and not moving. He glanced at the girl, who was unconscious on the couch. He looked at his hands, and then sighed audibly. Dean turned to him.

"Sam- back there..." Dean started.

Sam shot his brother a glare. "I saved her," he said. "Isn't that a good thing? Look, Dean- Bobby, Cas- I've got this under control."

"And I'm not saying saving people is a bad thing, Sam! But not this way. You've got to figure this out."

"Figure what out? Do you know how hard it is for me, right now? First you lost your memory, then I was tortured and- and given memories of _hell_, and it's hard enough for me to trust you right now, let alone work with you. I get, I think, that Kaylee was messing with me, and you're not- evil. But I'm not better, okay?" Sam said, controlled and tightly.

Dean opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again. Putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender, he nodded. "Okay."

Speaking up at last, Bobby stood up. "What are we going to do about the girl?" he asked.

Castiel looked at the young woman. "I can relieve her of the memories of being Kaylee's vessel," he said, "and then return her to her hometown. She will be okay."

Bobby nodded, satisfied.

Sam smiled curtly, still slightly tense, as Cas turned to him. "Sam."

"Cas."

"Sam, this...I know you believe you have this under control."

"I do."

"Sam, this isn't something that's _possible_ to be controlled, not by a human. It will destroy you."

"Think I don't already know that? Cas, I _can't_ stop," Sam said, his voice slightly ragged. "I can't. I don't want to. Please-"

Cas' voice was firmer now, and a hint of danger sounded from it. "Sam, you can either stop this yourself or I'll stop it for you. Remember what happened the last time this got out of control?"

"You let me out of the panic room, Cas," Sam shot back.

"I made a mistake!"

Sam's jaw clenched. "So did I. But it's over, now. The apocalypse happened, it's over!"

"Stop making excuses!"

Sam didn't reply. Im an instant, he bolted for the door, but Dean was quicker. He grabbed his brother's arm, holding him for now. Sam turned with a wild expression in his eyes, pulling at his arm. Dean grimaced, and with a swift uppercut he slammed his fist into Sam's jaw. The taller man fell, unconscious, to the floor.

Dean gazed at his handiwork. Grunting, he lifted his brother's large frame, Sam's feet dragging at the floor. With a grim nod, he spoke. "You know what we have to do."

Castiel, in the end, carried Sam to the panic room and secured him to the solitary bed in the center (but only after Dean made sure he could reach water and food with the manacles on).

"I hate doing this to him again, Bobby," Dean said, looking away as he heard Cas close the door firmly.

"I know, son. But it's the only way."

Dean nodded, sighed and started back upstairs. He had only gone about five feet when he felt Cas' arm on his shoulder. "Dean."

"Yeah?" Dean replied, turning.

"I know Jeanette is dead, but the original reason she wanted you.../do/ you remember what Michael did to end the apocalypse?"

Dean stopped walking. "Yeah," he said slowly.

"What was it?"

"It...well, it was a kind of reverse binding spell. A really powerful one, that could be used to keep anything out of anywhere. I'm not clear on the details, but...we were losing, Cas, and then Michael shouts this spell keeping Lucifer out of Earth, and Heaven, leaving nowhere for him to go but Hell. It was...really frightening actually. I can see why Jeanette would have wanted it."

Cas mulled over this information. "Thank you for being honest with me."

"Of course."

Cas looked at Dean, really looked at him. He saw Dean's soul, brilliantly shining like a beacon. Cas had imprinted Dean's soul onto his mind as soon as he entered hell and saw the man, and he didn't ever want stop looking at it.

"Cas! That's the third time I've said your name."

Abruptly, Cas switched back to Dean's physical voice and appearance (which, admittedly, wasn't bad-looking either). "My apologies. I was thinking. What is it?"

Dean gave a half laugh and looked down. "Nevermind."

Cas smiled, and Dean smiled back, looking at the angel- /his/ angel happily. He was suddenly aware of how little space there was in between them, and then he was aware that for almost three weeks he hadn't even known who Cas was, and that for six months before that he hadn't had the chance to talk to him.

Dean became very aware that it was almost seven months since he had kissed a certain angel, and he became very aware of a remedy to that. Leaning in, he inhaled. Cas...didn't actually smell like anything. He didn't perspire. Or wear cologne. Or wash his hair. So there really wasn't anything to smell. But that was okay with Dean.

Castiel watched Dean's eyes flit to Cas' lips, and instinctively he leaned in. Dean grabbed his face then, roughly, and kissed him hard.

"Get a friggin' room, you two," Bobby said from behind them. Abruptly, Dean stepped back and looked at him, apparently forgetting Bobby was in the room.

"Right," he said, then, exiting.

"Am...I still required here?" Cas asked Bobby.

"No, go on with Dean. Hell knows the boy's been through it all in the past few months. I can take care of Sam."

Cas nodded and then walked out after Dean. Bobby sighed, but he was smiling. It waa good to sed Dean acting...normal again.

Sam,.on the other hand, was more of an issue.

•••

Sam woke up and opened his eyes, not surprised to see the fan in the ceiling of the panic room. He clenched his jaw and prepared for the worst.

After what he assumed to be almost three hours, the hallucinations started. These were worse than before.

First it was Dean. His brother was standing over him, twirling a knife absentmindedly between his fingers. "Sammy, Sammy..." Not-Dean said, "you were always so against the right path. Always rebelling. You've always been nothing but a burden to me, you know? Even as a kid, when you forgot to translate some rune or another because you were up late doing trigonometry homework." Dean slammed the knife down, and it sank, quivering, into the wooden tale next to Sam's bed.

"I should have killed you years ago, when you first started showing signs o going dark side. But no, I would tell myself. Don't kill Sammy, don't let Sammy get hurt...well, Sam, you've done it this time. Let the devil out, and a whole bunch of demons, too. Whose side are you really on, anyways? Because last time I checked the good guys don't let the bad guys win without a fight.

"Unless," he continued, "you're a coward. Nothing but a coward. I'm ashamed to be your brother, you know that? You disgust me, Sam."

Dean dissipated, replaced by Jessica. Sam knew it wasn't real, couldn't be real, but it looked so, so real...

"Sam," she cried. "Sam, I could have been happy! I could have had a husband, a family- anything I wanted!" A red stain grew across the white nightdress she was wearing, and her voice grew cold. "But you did this to me, Sam. You killed me as sure as with your own hands. I hope you burn, like I did, for what you've done."

Sam cried out, begging Jess, begging Dean, Bobby, his mother...everyone. The pain didn't help either, a burning, gnawing pain that felt like fire in his veins and hurt like salt in a wound. Sweat poured out of his body, and screams ripped out of his throat. The only thing worse he had experienced was when Dean had tortured him. That had been worse. But nothing else.

•••

Sam's screams echoed through the house, and Dean couldn't do anything. Wrapped in Cas' strong arms, he sobbed. Sam was his responsibility. Dean should never have let this happen. Somehow, he should have stopped it. But he didn't.

•••

Two days later they let Sam out. The young man was haggard, broken, and hollow-looking, but he was clean. The demon blood was out of his system.

"Dean," he said, after taking a shower and eating an entire box of Cheerios, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Sammy. It isn't always your fault," Dean said, unsure what Sam was or wasn't apologizing for.

"No. It wasn't you, the real you, in-in the memories of hell. I'm so sorry."

Privately, Dean disagreed, but he nodded and pulled his brother into an embrace. "I'm sorry, too."

They released each other, and Bobby smiled, genuinely.

"Shit's hard," Dean said suddenly. "Really hard. But I think we can pull through it." He looked at Castiel, and Bobby, and his brother, and he smiled. "I'm pretty damn sure we can pull through just about anything."

THE END

* * *

A/N 2: _Please review! If you liked this story and actually bothered to read the entire thing, it would mean a ton to me if you'd leave even a small review with your thoughts. If you're interested, I'm currently writing another fanfic called Batman you could check out. Thanks!_

_-Jaq_


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